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WE FOUR VILLAGERS. 


A TALE 

OF 

OOMESTtC UFE tN PENNSVlVANtA. 


a- - !f o pt T . 

M 



PHILADELPHIA: 

J. S. McCALLA, PRINTER, 
No. 237 Dock Street. 

1861, 

Hot /> 


Entered According to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, hy 

G. FORT, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States 
for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER I. — The Knitting Reverie 5 

II. — The Severed Circle — The Village Store.... 9 

III. — A Village Funeral 14 

IV. — The Sleighing Party — Mrs. D. Dorane 23 

V. — Mr. Emgreen’s Will — A Bitter Disappoint- 

ment 31 

VI. — The Sunday School Picnic 43 

VII. — Our First Newspaper 51 

VIII.— A Change 65 

IX. — A Rag Carpet Party 73 

X. — Apple Butter Boiling 78 

XI. — Many Changes 89 

XII. — A Sad Departure from Silveryville 93 

, XIII. — A Moving — A Visit to Philadelphia 96 

XIV. — Attending the Front Door-Bell 108 

XV. — Minnie’s New Trials and Employment 121 

XVI. — Charlie and Harry 132 

XVII. — Fairmount 145 

XVIII. — The Summer Parlor 158 

XIX. — The Vow — The Court Funeral 171 

XX. — Other Sad Changes 192 

XXL — A Kind Physician 206 

XXII. — Poor Relations 215 

XXIII. — Merton’s Forced and Last Removal 224 

XXIV.— The Poor House 231 

XXV.— Night School 243 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XXVI. — Visiting Committee — Bob Blazenbill. ... 256 
XXVII. — Again Put Out — A Pleasant Retreat... 269 

XXVIII.— A Calm. 281 

XXIX. — A Bridal Call 288 

XXX. — Old Bob’s Success 298 

XXXI. — The Free Concert — The Long-comb 302 

XXXII. — Dismissed — Mrs. Jay’s Benevolence 308 

XXXIII. — New Relations — Olimond’s Departure.. 314 

XXXIV. — Minnie’s Last Domestic Woe 321 

XXXV. — A Hurried Change 324 

XXXVI. — Squire Welborn 326 

XXXVII. — Conclusion 329 


WE FOUR VILLAGERS. 


CHAPTEE I. 


THE KNITTING REVERIE. 


A CLEAR^ moon-illumined sky beamed brightly 
over head^ the air was keen^ cold and bracing. 
Hills and dales were deeply sleeping beneath a 
well frozen covering of snow. The sleighing 
was superbj and w many from the comforts of 



ain fireside,’’ 


to enjoy its fleetin^pleasures. The young peo- 
ple of the country town of Silveryville, had 
turned out e7i masse, to meet in merry mood in 
a sleighing party^ and gone^to partake of an even- 
ing’s amusement at the borough of Winterville. 

Mrs. Dorothy Dorane sat in her comfortably 
cushioned, high-backed, rocking chair, near her 
own neatly furnished fireside. 

Her hands were busily engaged in knitting an 
artistically shaped stocking for one of her numer- 


1 


We Foue Till AGEES. 


ous nephews, while her thoughts were as actively 
employed in forming a reverie, of which the fol- 
lowing lines will convey to the reader’s mind a 
fac simile. 

Yes, she thought, the young folks of Silvery- 
ville have all gone to the party at the Borough, 
and a merry, laughing, dancing, ringing time 
they will have. I am not there with them. I 
am here in the home of my forefathers, in the 
same house in which I was horn. There is no 
peal of merry laughter now, ringing through my 
lonely room. No one laughs here now. Tick, 
tick, tick says the old, dark clock in the corner. 
Tick, tick, tick' is the only sound that now breaks 
the silence of my home. And while it unceas- 
ingly goes on, in its solemij^ong of tick, tick, 
tick, it seems to say, think, tmhk, think, and in 
obedience to its constant voice, my mind steadily 
keeps time with it, and I remember well the 
days of yore when I w^as young. In those by- 
gone days I was not alone, for many others were 
then my fellow inmates of this same room, mer- 
rier voices and gladder sounds then drowned the 
tick, tick, tick of the dark, old clock in the corner. 

Father, mother, brothers, sisters, husband and 
children, other relatives, friends and neighbors 
ever conspired to over-sound the ticking of the 


We EoUE YiLL AGEES. 


7 


clock in my room. But now where are they ? 
Some are dead, others have gone to distant 
homes, and all have left me alone with no other 
companion than the ticking clock in the corner. 

Among the favorite friends of my youth there 
were three very dear ones, whom I especially 
loved. 

Together we four, in early childhood, gamboled 
with light and nimble feet on the floor of this 
same old room, and with merry, laughing shouts 
its time-honored walls have re-echoed the sounds 
of our gleesome and noisy mirth. But now I 
alone am left to occupy it. Together we four, 
in happy girlhood, attended the same school, 
where we learned the same lessons. And when 
the lessons were done, together we four rambled 
to the green and grassy meadows, where we 
culled the earliest spring flowers in their prime 
and matchless beauty, beside the purling, peb- 
bly brook. Together we four played at hide- 
and-seek among the arches and broken walls of 
the old stone bridge, which spans the more 
stately creek, and among the thick bushes that 
border its rugged, rock-bound shores. 

There we spent many happy hours of the long, 
sunny days of summer. Beyond the meadow 
and the creek, in the deep wild woods, during 


8 


We Four Villagers. 


the bright days of Autumn, together we four 
have hunted nuts, and enjoyed the pleasure of 
gathering them, quite as much as some older per- 
sons now do in collecting gold and silver coins. 
In Winter’s clear and cold days, we four have 
often passed together many joyous hours in glid- 
ing swiftly over the smooth, slippery surface of 
the ice-bound creek. Together we four, when 
our school lessons and our school days were 
ended, have come here in my room to enjoy in 
social meetings many happy evenings. 

Here we met, talked, laughed and sung where 
now is heard nought but the tick, tick, tick of 
the dark, old clock in the corner. 

The names of my three intimate friends were 
Belinda May, Emma Krammaul and Minnie Em- 
green. Belinda met with a noble youth from the 
sunny South, he saw, he loved and addressed 
her ; but her parents frowned upon his advances, 
and prohibited their progress. During several 
months he lingered in the neighborhood, then he 
suddenly returned to his distant home. Belinda 
appeared to view his departure with composed in- 
difference ; but not many months elapsed ere the 
bright bloom of health and beauty faded from 
her cheeks, her eyes lost their lustre, her steps 
their elasticity. 


CHAPTEE II. 


THE SEVERED CIRCLE. — THE VILLAGE STORE. 

Very soon Belinda ceased to be one of us four, 
who were so long in the habit of happily meeting 
here in my sitting room. Time passed away, 
and Avith it went the spirit of our own dear 
Belinda ; thus was our circle of us four early 
friends intruded upon and broken by death. 

Sadly I think of her untimely end, and very 
thankful I feel that I am still alive to hear the 
tick, tick, ticking of the clock, although I am 
alone to hear its plaintive voice ; and as I listen 
to it I often meditate on the fates and fortunes 
of the other two dear friends. Emma Kram- 
maul, also, very soon left us. She was ad- 
mired by a stranger of high rank. They were 
married. Soon after their wedding they went 
to a distant land where they still remain. 

About a year after they left us, I was married 
to one who had been our schoolmate. At the 
time of our marriage he was an officer in the 
United States Navy; as he was absent from 
home the greater part of his time, we never went 
1 * 


10 


We Four Yillagers. 


to house-keeping. He was wrecked and drowned 
a few years after our marriage. 

One more of us four once gay and happy 
friends remains for me to remember and describe. 

Minnie Emgreen was of low stature, light and 
delicate in form, her face fair and beautiful, de- 
cided her to be the flo^ver of our little flock. 
One evening we introduced her to our relative, 
Merton Malvers. He Avas a handsome, gay 
young man of agreeable manners. His father 
Avas a rich farmer in a distant county. Merton, 
or as Ave then called him, Our Cousin Merton,’' 
had enjoyed the advantages of a very good edu- 
cation; he was full of good health and happy 
spirits ; the world seemed to him a fairy field of 
pleasure, and he was generally a favorite Avher- 
ever he went. At the time to AAdiich I noAV 
allude he Avas not employed in any regular occu- 
pation, and had come to Silvery ville to visit our 
family, some of the members of AA^hich he had 
never seen until this, his first visit at our house. 
He was at first sight impressively struck Avith 
the grace and beauty of my dear young friend, 
Minnie Emgreen. He Avalked home Avith her 
that evening, through the green AvilloAv grove 
which separated her parents’ dwelling from ours. 

From that time until the end of his visit, thev 


We Four Villagers. 


11 


met almost daily. After he went to his own 
home .though absent from us it appeared he 
kept his eyes open to the events and circum- 
stances which were transpiring in and around 
the neighborhood of Silveryville. About half a 
year after his first visit to us, the country mer- 
chant, who conducted all the commercial affairs 
of Silveryville, came to the conclusion to dis- 
pose of his extensive village store. In that 
store were sold all sorts and all kinds of mer- 
chandise. It included among its various con- 
tents dry goods, both fancy and staple; all 
kinds and all sorts of trimmings ; pins, needles 
and threads of all numbers and all colors ; woolen, 
cotton, tow and linen yarns, of all sizes and 
shades ; buttons, hooks and eyes, groceries, teas, 
sugar and coffee ; edibles of many kinds, includ- 
ing crackers, cakes, ginger bread, candies, dried 
fruits, with a great many other good things that 
do not always grow on trees in this our cold and 
uncongenial climate. This same accommodating 
and good natured store supplied the dear people 
of Silveryville with every variety of cutlery, 
large and small, good, bad and indifferent ; also, 
every possible diversity of tin, iron, brass, wood- 
en, glass, china and earthen wares. On its well 
filled shelves, and in its thickly crowded corners 


12 


We FoUK YiLL AGEES. 


we could see, huddled together in more confu- 
sion than good order, in more utility than beauty, 
every article we could think of, from a curry 
comb to a side saddle, from a milk strainer to a 
butter print, from a shoe peg to a pair of over- 
shoes, from a footstool to a dinner table. Every 
thing that can be thought of, and many others 
that are hard to remember, wmuld have to be in- 
cluded in the long inventory which would have 
to be made before we could describe all the con- 
tents of that great and useful, only store of the 
beautiful Silveryville. 

About half a year after Merton Malvers’ first 
visit at our house, this convenient and useful 
store was offered for sale. As I have already 
stated, my cousin Merton had his eyes open to 
the events which were occurring at Silveryville, 
and he, therefore, soon discovered how matters 
stood with regard to our store. He seized with 
alacrity on the event, and made it an apology 
for paying another visit to our pleasant village. 

He came, he saw, and he purchased the great 
and useful store of Silveryville. Minnie was de- 
lighted to meet once more her former admirer. 
Very soon afterwards his attentions to her were 
of a marked and decided character; his visits 
were not agreeable to Minnie’s parents, because 


We Four Yillagers. 13 

they feared his tastes were too trifling and un- 
settled to permit him ever to become a suitable 
husband for their precious daughter. They dis- 
couraged his visits, and affectionately advised 
her to shun his attentions. But Minnie was an 
indulged child from the earlier years of her life, 
and was now unwilling to submit to the wishes and 
authority of her parents. She disregarded their 
earnest requests to avoid the society and atten- 
tions of my cousin Merton Malvers. Before the 
expiration of a year after his return to our vil- 
lage, she one day clandestinely became his wife. 

After that, Merton took up his permanent 
abode in the house of Mr. Emgreen. As Min- 
nie was his only child, and he was a man of 
wealth, Merton imprudently believed, from the 
time of his marriage, it was not worth while to 
make a slave of himself to the irksome duties 
of his store. Under this erroneous impression 
he soon became so careless and inattentive to his 
customers that they began to feel much dissatis- 
fied with the same store, which until then, had 
ever been usefully and acceptably conducted. 
One of our keen sighted neighbors, seeing how 
matters stood between Merton and his custom- 
ers, wisely opened an opposition place of busi- 
ness, to which people, always fond of a change 


14 


We Foue Yillagees. 


and novelty, flocked in such prodigious numbers, 
that Merton’s counters were soon left unvisited 
by all his former purchasers. The dreariness of 
an unfrequented store, was, to Merton’s lively and 
sociable feelings, even more intolerable than had 
been the labor of attending to his customers, 
when he had them. 

This being the case, he very soon grew thor- 
oughly out of patience with what he called the 
fickleness of Dame Fortune, and sold his store 
olF to the highest bidder. He then indolently 
resigned himself to the humiliating alternative of 
very soon becoming entirely dependent upon 
Mr. Emgreen for the means of supporting him- 
self and his wife. 


CHAPTEE III. 

A VILLA.GE FUNERAL. 

Two years passed away rather uncomfortably 
to the members of Mr. Emgreen’s family. Du- 
ring these two years Merton’s parents died. 
Their estate w^^as equally divided among their 
eleven children, and therefore did not amount to 


We Four Villagers. 


15 


much in value to any one of them. Merton 
lived jovially upon his means as long as they 
lasted, without troubling himself with the care 
of looking out for the future. He intended when 
they should he entirely exhausted, to apply, 
through Minnie’s gentle influence, for relief to 
the ample resources of her wealthy and kindly 
indulgent Father. 

Merton’s dollars had been by his own mismanage- 
ment and extravagance, reduced to a very small 
amount of cash, when Mr. Emgreen suddenly 
sickened and died of apoplexy; his funeral 
caused quite an excitement in our usually calm 
village. Not only because he was a man of 
large fortune, and the favorite of an extensive 
circle of acquaintances, but also on account of 
his being a Free Mason of a high rank, and was 
to be buried with Masonic honors. The funeral 
took place on the third day after his decease, at 
four o’clock in the afternoon. 

On the morning of the day of the funeral, 
according to a good old-times custom, on the 
event of a death in the village, the church 
— for at that time our village owned but one 
church, in it all the inhabitants of the place were 
wont to assemble in fraternal harmony, without 
distinction of sects or creeds — the old church 


16 


We Four Villagers. 


bell commenced tolling as the sun was beginning 
to show its upper part above the Eastern hori- 
zon. The tolling of the bell continued until the 
whole orb of day was fully and entirely risen. 
Then again, the same bell was tolled for about 
fifteen minutes, at the time of the meeting of the 
friends at the house of the deceased. Then 
again^ when the funeral appeared in sight of the 
churchj the bell was again tolled, and it continued 
sending forth its sonorous and sadly-sounding 
peals upon the quiet village air, until the coffin 
was borne into the open space in front of the 
pulpit. There the bier on which it was borne 
was placed, and the upper half of the coffin-lid, 
made on hinges for this purpose, was opened, 
and the face, and nearly the half of the dead 
one’s form, were exposed to the view of the as- 
sembled congregation. The coffin remained 
opened, and in front of the pulpit — the high old 
fashioned pulpit — hanging over it until the funer- 
al sermon was preached. This attention was in- 
variably paid to persons of all ranks and all ages, 
who were in any way connected Avith the church. 

Soon after sunrise, a messenger was sent from 
the house of mourning, to the door of every other 
dwelling — rich and poor — in the village, Avith the 
folloAving verbal message. 


We Foue YiLLAaEKS. 


17 


It was then verbal^ for at that time printing 
presses were not as abundant as they are now. 
In this more favored year of our welcom^J-SGO, 
it is customary to send the message in print, in 
the form of a letter, but in those by-gone days, 
to which reference is here made, it was invaria- 
bly couched in the following words : 

Mr., Mrs. or Miss So-and-so, yourself and 
family are respectfully invited to attend the 
funeral of Mr. Emgreen, this afternoon at four 
o’clock." 

This message was delivered in a loud and 
hurried voice at the entrance of the dwelling. 
Having safely announced it, the bearer hastened 
away without using any other words or cere- 
mony, to repeat the doleful sounds in the ears 
of the next door neighbors. At the present time 
there is more variety, and sometimes more cere- 
mony, manifested in the composition of the 
printed funeral invitations, according to the taste 
and literary ability, of the person who may 
happen to be appointed their writer. 

On the day of Mr. Emgreen’s funeral, at four 
o’clock in the afternoon, the old church bell 
solemnly tolled the hour of invitation. Then, in 
a few minutes, vehicles of all styles and sizes 
began to move into the one, long, front street of 
2 


18 


We Four Villagers. 


Silveryville, from the surrounding country. 
Then well dressed Silveryvillites, of both sexes, 
and of nearly all ages, tastefully and with un- 
usual care attired in their best holiday robes, 
with solemn looks and steady paces, began to 
leave their own quiet dwellings, and assemble 
in one vast crowd around the large and hand- 
somely furnished parlors, halls and bed-rooms of 
Mr. Emgreen’s large mansion. 

Meanwhile the Free Masons of the village, 
were assembled in their hall, where they were 
costuming themselves in their splendidly glitter- 
ing regalia. When they were all appropriately 
equiped, they marched in procession, two by two, 
from their hall to the house of their deceased 
brother ; they entered the room in which the 
bier and coffin were standing, and performed 
over them some mysterious ceremonies, which 
no one but themselves comprehended. They 
then took a silent leave of the remains of their de- 
ceased brother, and marched out of the house, in 
the same manner in which they had entered it, 
and stood in front of the mansion. Two of their 
number held the glittering blades of two long 
swords over the front entrance, while the corpse 
was carried out under them, and they did the 
same at the church door, when it entered there. 


We Four Yillagers. 


19 


Four of the Free Masons walked beside the 
coffin as pall-bearers, although it was without a 
pall. As the dwelling place of Mr. Emgreen, 
was within view of the church, as soon as his 
remains were borne outside his door, the church 
bell began to ring, and it tolled on, and on, until 
the coffin entered the church. The funeral pro- 
cession was led by the Free Masons. After the 
corpse walked a long train of mourners who 
were dressed in deep black. The widow was 
supported between the arms of her daughter 
Minnie and her son-in-law. Then followed the 
large multitude of assembled neighbors, without 
forming themselves into procession, on account 
of the proximity of the church to the dwelling. 

Although the sacred edifice was an extensive 
building, it could not hold more than half the 
assembly. The other half congregated around 
the open doors and windows, to listen to the 
funeral discourse, which was delivered in a clear 
and remarkably distinct manner. By the time 
it was half done, the surrounding fence-posts and 
tree-trunks had fastened to them the bridles and 
reins of other people’s horses, who had thus 
lately arrived from their distant homes in other 
towns, or in the country near them. These late 
arrivals waited patiently for the conclusion of 


20 


We FoUK YiLL AGEES. 


the sermon, to go into the church and take a last 
look at their departed friend, before the final 
screwing down of the coffin-lid. Meanwhile 
they joined the listening crowd around the doors 
or windows, or they silently sauntered into the 
cemetery, where they paid sober visits to the 
grass-grown graves of other gone-before friends 
or relations. 

The funeral oration occupied a full hour in its 
delivery. The greater part of it was spent in 
exhorting the audience to prepare for eternity, to 
consider attentively the uncertainty of life, the 
importance of being ever in a state of readiness 
to depart hence to a better and a higher world, 
according to the example of their deceased friend 
and neighbor. Then followed many words in 
praise of the character and disposition of the de- 
ceased. 

During this part of the sermon, as usual on 
all similar occasions, the age to the very day of 
his death, and his name were clearly announced. 

When the sermon was ended, a long hymn 
was sung, then a longer prayer was offered at 
the throne of the heavenly grace. Then the 
Benediction was pronounced. The out side 
hearers then walked in and around the coffin to 
take their last leave of its occupant. It was 


We Four Yillagers. 


21 


then borne to the grave in the same order in 
which it had been carried to the church. 

When the coffin was lowered into the open 
sepulchre, the minister uncovered his head and 
offered another prayer, then he gave out verse 
by verse the lines of the following : 

HYMN. 

“ Hark, from the tombs a doleful sound, 

My ears attend the cry. 

Ye living men, come view the ground, 

Where yo.u must shortly lie. 

Princes, this clay must be your bed. 

In spite of all your towers, 

The tall, the wise, the reverend head. 

Must lie as low as ours. 

Great God is this our certain doom, 

And are we still secure. 

Still walking downward to the tomb. 

And yet prepare no more !’’ 

^ ^ 

This solemn hymn was most heartily sung by 
the majority of the surrounding multitude. While 
the singing of the hymii was progressing, four 
well dressed men stood near the side of the 
grave, and with large shovels, they filled up the 
grave very rapidly. Before the hymn was con- 
cluded, the grave was filled, mounded up and 
2 * 


22 


We Four Villagers. 


smoothed, with the backs of the shovels. As 
soon as they were done singing, the minister put 
on his hat, and led the way to the house of the 
late Mr. Emgreen; he was followed by the 
mourners, and a large company of friends, who 
were on terms of intimacy with his family. 
They entered the house, and remained there 
until after supper. 

While the funeral ceremonies were taking 
place at the church, other events of a very dif- 
ferent and more substantial nature were trans- 
piring in the kitchens and lower rooms of the 
house of mourning. No sooner had the funeral 
procession taken its departure towards the 
church, than a busy, bustling scene commenced. 
The head cook of the village, Editha Rox — like 
other villages in the good old times that are past 
we had our head cook — who was well skilled in 
the art which I fear kills as many as it cures, 
the art of luxurious cooking. 

Editha Rox, with the assistance of at least a 
half dozen other hired helps, or as they were 
then called maids,” went bravely to work at 
the Herculean operation of preparing supper for 
at least a hundred or more people. By the time 
the mourners and their friends returned from the 
grave-yard, four long tables were arranged in the 


/ We Four Yillaoers. 23 

dining and sitting rooms of the hospitable man- 
sion. They were soon surrounded by a large 
company, among whom were seated all the 
mourners, not excepted even the widow and 
daughter of the deceased. Their absence from 
the tables would have been viewed by the guests 
as an unpardonable breach of hospitality. The 
meal was eaten in solemn silence ; but none the 
less heartily for the quietude which surrounded 
the tables. 

The only beverages used were very strong tea 
and coffee, fresh rich milk, and cold water from 
the spring. 


CHAPTBE lY. 

THE SLEIGHING PARTY. — MRS. D. DORANE. 

When the sumptuous and duly appreciated 
meal was concluded, the guests quietly departed 
to their own homes. Some took a formal leave 
of the widow and her daughter, while others did 
not ; but left the house without any ceremony. 

Just at this point of Mrs. Dorothy Dorane’s 
evening, or rather of her night’s reverie, the dis- 
tant jingle of merry sleigh-bells broke the silence 


24 


We Foue Yillagers. 


of the waning night. Mrs. Dorane listened a 
moment, then exclaimed, 

Ah there they come at last !” 

As she said these few words aloud she threw 
her knitting-work into her basket, extinguished 
her home-made tallow candle, then ran, as fast 
as the weight of her years would allow her, to 
the front room window, to see the sleighing 
party drive through the main-street of Silvery- 
ville. To enjoy this rare pleasure was the rea- 
son why she sat up so late, and why she pro- 
gressed thus far in her reverie over the history 
of Merton Malver’s life. 

Before Mrs. Dorane’s door there was a deep 
snow-drift ; the first sleigh of the party was 
suddenly driven over a convenient stone in a 
way that overturned its occupants helter-skelter 
into the midst of the deep snow-drift. This 
purposely designed accident occasioned many 
peals of merriment among the giddy young men 
and women who were its unhurt victims ; in this 
loudly demonstrative mirthfulness, they were 
heartily joined by their companions, who were 
occupants of the sleighs that overtook them be- 
fore they had regained their seats. 

Aunt Dorothy looked on in high glee, and en- 
joyed the amusement of viewing the merry ^^up- 


We Four Villagers. 25 

set” almost as much as they did who were the 
actors in it. 

She counted the sleighs as they passed her, 
one after another, until she counted twelve. She 
knew as well as any body, that twelve was the 
complete number of the whole party, for she had 
watched it on its departure from Silveryville. 
As soon as the last one passed she hastened to 
her downy pillow, where she soon rested her 
head in balmy sleep. 

The last thoughts which passed through her 
mind, ere she became unconscious, were anx- 
iously given to the many domestic duties that, 
with the dawn of the following day, would re- 
quire her active attention. 

Dorothy’s parents had lived in very comforta- 
ble circumstances, as Pennsylvania farmers, hut 
the rearing and educating a large family of chil- 
dren, the deaths of several grown children, then 
their own very protracted attacks of sickness, 
had greatly reduced their pecuniary means. 

After the decease of the last parent, when the 
estate was divided into nine shares, all that Dor- 
othy could call her own, consisted of the house 
in which she was born, the lot of ground on 
which it stood, and such articles of household 
furniture and garden stock as her brothers and 


26 


We Toue Yillagees. 


sisters saw proper to give her ; a cow, a pig, and 
a flock of domestic fowls. She would have dis- 
dained living without the possession of these 
domestic animals. 

She had all her life been accustomed to the 
care of them, and she could not comprehend how 
any person could live without them. Thus she 
had provided for her a permanent and comforta- 
ble home. But she was without the necessary 
income where-with-all to keep it comfortable. 

What was she to do ? 

She did not hesitate long in finding an ap- 
propriate answer to this interesting question ; 
bat with true Pennsylvania energy, at once re- 
solved to commence teaching school. 

Her prospect of success in her new course of 
life was, at the time, very fair, because the for- 
mer village school-mistress had lately married 
and retired from the occupation. 

Did Aunt Dorothy think she was lowering 
her dignity as a rich man’s daughter, and as the 
widow of an officer in the Navy of the United 
States ? Did she fear the effect of her becoming 
a teacher would be to injure her in the estima- 
tion of her friends ? Did she reflect that if she 
spent her time teaching she might lose caste in 
her social standing with her neighbors in society ? 


We Four Villagers. 


27 


There is caste and there is society too, even in 
our village, although the world may not believe 
there are. 

Such ideas never entered her head. Besides 
being school-teacher, she was the performer of 
all her own domestic labor. The morning after 
her late sitting up, waiting to witness the return 
of the sleighing party, she over-slept the usual 
hour of arising, and the consequence was that 
she had to hurry with inconvenient speed through 
the work required to be done before nine 
o’clock, at which hour she opened school in Win- 
ter. While she was giving the finishing touches 
to her household morning duties, two of her 
scholars came to her kitchen door, and asked 
permission to sharpen their slate pencils on the 
large, rough hearth-stone of the open fire-place. 

Their request was readily granted by Mrs. 
Dorane ; while they sharpened their pencils to 
slender points, and she silently continued her 
employment without seeming to notice or listen 
to them, they gossiped in a quiet undertone 
about the sleighing party, which their older 
sisters had attended. 

0, they had a merry time of it last night,” 
said one, how glad I will be when I am old 
enough to go to sleighing parties.” 


28 


We Foue Yillagees. 


So will too/’ answered the other, did 
your sister tell you about the splendid supper 
they had in Winterville ? 

No, not a word, she never thinks of such 
things. Did your sister Mary tell you about it ?” 

0 yes indeed, she kept us busy listening to 
her about it, all the time we were at the break- 
fast table this morning, for you see she does 
think of such things, and likes them too.” 

Well then, please do tell me all she said 
about it.” 

1 am afraid I will not have time to do that 
before school opens, for you see Teacher is near- 
ly done her butter working.” 

No matter if she is, she has to scald and put 
away the churn and cream-pot, the pan and 
spoon too, before she will stop to open school.” 

^^0, I guess she will leave them stand where 
they are until after school is out.” 

^^Aunt Dolly, our Teacher, leave them stand ! 
Did you ever see her leave anything stand one 
minute after she was done using it ?” 

No, no, never ! but tell me all you know 
about the sleighing-party supper last night.” 

They had two long tables in the dining-room, 
on each table two large roasted turkeys, two 
geese, four deep dishes of stewed chickens, one 


We Four Villagers. 


29 


large dish of boiled ham, two of fried ham and 
eggs, two of fried sausage, and two of fried scrap- 
ple, two very large pound cakes, two sponge cakes, 
four plates of doughnuts, six of bread, six of hot 
buckwheat cakes, and four of waffles. Then be- 
tween these, there were more smaller plates, of 
pies, custards, pickles and preserves, than she 
could find time to count.” 

How many musicians had they in the room?” 

Four, and they played beautifully.” 

Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, at that moment, merrily 
rang Mrs. Dorothy Dorane’s little bell, at her 
desk in the school-room ; the sound broke up the 
conversation of the two scholars, who were still 
in the kitchen, and warned them that the time 
had arrived to commence their daily tasks at 
their own desks, and in their classes. 

The school-room, so full of lively interests to 
the gay and young, we will not enter, it is a 
place of mental drudgery to the majority of read- 
ers, and we will have little to do with its musty 
mysteries. We will not follow our friend, Mrs. 
Dorothy Dorane, through the various duties of 
the day among her pupils. Neither will we fol- 
low her as she prepares and enjoys her quiet 
evening meal ; it will probably he shared by some 
gossiping friend and neighbor in whose conver- 
3 


30 


We Four Yillagers. 


sation we would not take an interest^ because it 
will not be connected with the history of Merton 
Malvers and the funeral of Mr. Emgreen. But 
we will wait patiently until Mrs. Dorane is left 
alone in her quiet home. When with her knit- 
ting work in her hands, she has taken her seat 
for the evening beside her own blazing fire, she 
will mentally return to the scenes of former 
days in the residence of Mr. Emgreen, or she 
will solace the hours of her evening solitude by 
meditation on the past lives of her friends and 
neighbors. Whether at home or abroad in her 
evening hours, her needle or knitting work was 
her inseparable companion. She never spent 
one idle moment any where. 

But with the history of her own life we wdll 
not now interfere. Having en passant described 
this much of her manner of living, we will now 
allow her full liberty to finish in her own words 
the plain and unvarnished history of the life of 
her relative, Merton Malvers, and his wife, with- 
out any further interruption or delay. 


CHAPTEE y. 

MR. EMGREEN’S will. — A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT. 

By the time the partakers of the funeral sup- 
per had departed, the hour for the night’s re- 
tirement to rest had arrived. Minnie’s grief 
over the loss of her late father was deeply seated, 
and when the house was deserted by all their 
friends, the afflicted widow and her daughter 
passed together an hour of bitter weeping and 
mourning over their melancholy bereavement. 

In their sorrow, Merton felt but little sym- 
pathy, he had never experienced much affection 
for the deceased, and did not grieve over his un- 
expected departure from the land of the living. 
Yet he said many vrords in order to console his 
wife and mother-in-law in their painful lamenta- 
tions, and finally prevailed on them both to 
retire to rest. He also very soon placed his 
head upon his pillow, but not to sleep — schemes 
and plans relating to his future expenditure of 
the wealth which he expected to inherit, kept 
him wide awake. Minnie was the only child of 
her father, and therefore he expected she would 
of course, be his only heir. It was true Mr. 


32 


We Four Yillagers. 


Emgreen had made a will^ which was to be 
opened and read the next day. Yet Merton did 
not for one moment believe there could possi- 
bly he anything in it contrary to his wishes and 
welfare. So confident was he of being the 
undisputed possessor of at least two-thirds of 
Mr. Emgreen’s estate, that he perplexed his 
brains a long time, about the question of which 
house, or lot, or shares of bank-stock he should 
first sell and convert into cash for his own 
immediate use. Worrying over this hard-to- 
be-decided matter, he passed several sleepless 
hours. The afternoon of the next day, his and 
my relative, Adam Guildhall, who was the 
only legal gentleman our village could at that 
time produce, who had written the will, and 
whose wife and wife’s brother had witnessed it, 
when signed by Mr. Emgreen, assembled in the 
presence of Mrs. Emgreen, Merton Malvers and 
his wife Minnie, in one of the Emgreen parlors, 
for the purpose of opening and reading the last 
will and testament of the lately deceased Mr. 
Emgreen. 

The contents of the will astonished Mr. and 
Mrs. Malvers, until they were speechless with 
astonishment and dismay. Then they were 
glad that their own relations, were the only wit- 


We Foue Yillageks. 33 

nesses of the astounding contents of that ill-fated 
will. 

They hoped that thus they might he spared 
the painful mortification of having its contents 
talked about ' by all the idle gossips of the 
county. 

The meaning of the will, in plain, common- 
sense English, unbespattered by the tedious 
technicalities and formalities of legal and latin 
terms, in which the law directs and delights to 
ornament every document that falls into its pos- 
session, v/as simply this. That the late Mr. 
Emgreen did bequeath to his faithful and loving 
wife, the whole and entire estate, real and per- 
sonal, of which he was the owner at the time of 
his decease. Merton’s name was not once men- 
tioned in the will, and to poor Minnie he be- 
queathed only, the acknowledgment that she 
was not his daughter, but the child — the oldest 
child — of Mrs. Tendem, a poor woman who lived 
in a distant county of Pennsylvania, and who 
was, when he last heard from her, the mother of 
a large family of children. Poor Merton, poor 
Minnie, what an afflicting discovery the reading 
of that will produced. Merton loved his fair 
young wife, as much as some men can love 
their wives 5 but of course it was natural he 
3* 


34 


We Four Villagers. 


should also have loved whafc he supposed was 
her wealth. To find so unexpectedly^ that she 
was the offspring of a poor woman, the eldest 
sister of a large family of poor children, at once 
deprived of her long enjoyed riches; and endowed 
with the inheritance of a long retinue of needy, 
dependent relations. 0 the contemplation of the 
difference was agonizing to both the young man 
and his no less astonished wife ! Mrs. Emgreen 
earnestly and immediately requested the lawyer, 
his wife and her brother, never to mention the 
contents of the will to any living creature, and 
they promised they w^ould not. They soon 
afterwards took their departure from the house ^ 
of the now doubly afflicted family. As soon a^ 
they were gone, Merton also left the dwelling, 
and walked, with hasty strides, up the back j 
street of Silveryville, in rear of the gardens, un- I 
til he reached the creek, he then entered his j 
row-boat and crossed the stream, entered the j 
thick woods of forest trees, and seating himself 
on a fallen tree-trunk, he poured out in great bit- i 
terness, the anguish which oppressed his heart. 

When Minnie and the widow found themselves j 
alone, they hung on each others necks, and 
wept unrestrainedly a long time ; at last Mrs. 
Emgreen recovered her composure, and said : 


We Fouk Villagers. 


35 


^^Dear Minnie, do not grieA^e so much over 
this painful news, I love you all the same as if 
you were in reality my own daughter, and I 
have had the care of you, ever since you first 
breathed. Do not then fret over this discovery 
of your own parentage. I regret exceedingly that 
Mr. Emgreen saw proper to make it known to 
you. I wanted you to live all your life, in the 
belief that you were really my own child.” 

0 mother, mother, my only real mother, you 
must be, I will never believe I can have any 
other; how cruelly unkind it was in him to 
make this circumstance known in such a way as 
this, so abruptly, so unexpectedly !” 

“ He did it, dear child, for what he thought 
w^ould be conducive to your own best interest.” 

1 do not see how that can be.” 

Do not, dear Minnie, judge him too harshly ; 
he is in his grave, let his memory rest in peace ; 
and be assured my own dear darling Minnie, that 
nothing but death shall make me cease to love 
you, and that as long as I have home and money, 
you shall share them with me. Come, come 
now, my own dearest, cheer up and forget that 
you ever were informed that I am not your own 
real mother.” 

When, if ever, did I see any other mother ?” 


36 


We Four Yillagers. 


Not since you were two years old. After 
that she sent a few times hy letter to inquire 
after you, but it is now full twelve j^ears since 
we have heard any news about her.” 

Who was she ? Will you not tell me, dear 
mother ? ” 

What would be the use? Let us forget her, 
as in all probability she has long ago forgotten 
us. Her present husband is not your father, he 
died before you were born. But, dear Minnie, 
let us now cease to speak on this subject, and 
let us try to forget it altogether.” 

Many words of this nature did Mrs. Emgreen 
pour into the willing ears of her adopted daugh- 
ter, until she became calmly composed, and tried 
to fancy that what she had heard read was only 
an unpleasant dream. It was then agreed be- 
tween them, that they would continue to live as 
they were then doing, without making any change 
in their domestic arrangements. Also, Mrs. Em- 
green promised to pay Merton Malvers a regular, 
yearly salary for attending to the business of her 
estate. 

In her own private thoughts she very much 
feared he would not perform his part as faith- 
fully as she would wish him to, yet she resolved 
to try him a year at least. She did not impart 


We Four Villagers. 


37 


her fears to Minnie, because she did not wish to 
worry her with them. 

Merton continued on his fallen seat, and still 
poured forth in words, ^^not loud, but deep,” the 
disappointed anguish of his soul with an over- 
flowing flood of sorrow. He was naturally proud 
and high-minded, but at the same time he was 
very selfish, and exceedingly fond of his own 
ease. The grief he could not feel for the death of 
his reputed father-in-law, flowed freely through 
his heart and crushed all its fondest hopes, 
over the deprivation of his share in his prop- 
erty. A more miserably disappointed man it 
would be hard to find in all the length and 
breadth of Silveryville. The hardest part of his 
suffering seemed to him to be its utter loneliness, 
for he felt he could not dare to share it even Avith 
his own Avife, or Avith any other living creature. 

It seemed to him as if she had conspired Avith 
others to entangle him into the meshes of an im- 
prudent and disgraceful marriage, by not having 
made known to him her OAvn real parentage. 

Thus unreasonable he Avas. Hoav could she 
communicate Avhat she did not knoAv ? Then, 
again, if Merton would have been unbiased by 
his OAvn selfish feelings, if he could have calmly 
vieAved the facts of the case, as they really ex- 


38 


We Four Yillagers. 


isted, he would hai^e seen that if he had acted 
the part of a real, true man, and had not spent 
his own means in idleness and imprudence, Mr. 
Emgreen would never have disinherited Minnie. 

He also should have remembered that no one 
but himself and wife was to blame for their 
marriage, as her friends were strongly opposed 
to it. 

But when did man in a passion ever listen to 
the voice of reason ? 

He remained in the woods until long after 
night-fall. Then he turned his footsteps in a 
homeward direction, almost detesting the idea 
of entering a house in which he had received 
such a stunning blow to all his imaginary pros- 
perity. He did not walk through the village by 
the back street as he had left it in the afternoon, 
but went along the front one. Unfortunately, 
he in it, had to pass the village hotel. The bar- 
room was open and well lighted ^ near the win- 
dows were seated some five or six of Merton’s 
cheer-loving friends, one of whom called him to 
Come in and take a drink.” 

As Merton had not been at the hotel since 
Mr. Emgreen’s death, the sight of him once more 
was hailed as a joyful event, and his comrades 
received him with many warm expressions of 


We Foue Yillagees. 


89 


welcome. Treat after treaty drink after drink, 
followed his entrance among them. 

One of the party jeered him on his woe-begone 
looks, and said. 

Unsleeve my over-coat, if I would look so 
solemncholy as you do for the loss of a dozen 
rich fathers-in-law ; come, cheer up Merton Mal- 
vers, and take some wine or brandy, and let us 
see the color of your teeth once more.” 

Glass after glass followed this heartless speech, 
until the midnight hour found them still over 
their rum-glasses. At that time the landlord ad- 
vised them to go home, as he said he dared not 
risk his reputation by keeping his house open 
any later. 

The whole party were decidedly the worse for 
the liquor they had consumed, but Merton, who 
had partaken more freely than the others, was 
helplessly intoxicated ; so much so, that he was 
incapable of finding his way home. After his com- 
panions had retired from the premises, the land- 
lord and the bar tender led him there between 
them, entered his dwelling by the back entrance, 
and by Minnie’s directions (who was waiting up 
for him), conducted him quietly to his bed. 

Poor Minnie, her cup of sorrow now seemed, 
to her, to be filled to overflowing. Ah, how 


40 We Four Yillagees. 

well for her it was she did not know how much 
more it would be made to hold ! 

Merton remained in a state of insensibility 
until a late hour the next morning. When he 
recovered the use of his senses, the first thing 
he asked for was a glass of liquor, instead of 
which he received from the hands of his sorrow- 
ing young wife, a large cup of very strong coffee. 

He remained in bed nearly all day. Towards 
evening, when he appeared to be entirely re- 
stored to a state of sobriety, his wife communi- 
cated to him the intentions of Mrs. Emgreen, 
respecting him, and the plan of living in future, 
without making any change in her home. She 
then affectionately exhorted him, for the sake of 
their lovely young children, to forsake the bot- 
tle and its fatal contents forever. That awful 
bottle — his deadly foe — which had at last re- 
duced him to the state of miserable helplessness. 
He promised her, he would never again drink. 
But the promise was made in his own strength, 
and it was — ah ! how feeble. 

Minnie, too, appealed only to his feelings as a 
man and a father. She was most strangely in- 
different to the sentiments of a Christian, and in 
all her ardent desires for her husband’s safety, 
she forgot to cast her care upon her Creator, or 


We FoUK YiLL AGEES. 


41 


to seek on his behalf, in prayer and supplication, 
the aid of his Holy Spirit. How strange it is, 
that in this land of Bibles, and of unfettered re- 
ligous instruction, there should be found one sin- 
gle heart unblessed by a daily — an hourly — yea, 
an ever abiding trust and confidence in the pro- 
tection and guidance of the giver of every good 
and perfect gift. 

Merton Malvers promised amendment in his 
habits. For some time he kept his word, and 
bid fair to become and remain a sober man. — 
Meanwhile some of Mrs. Emgreen’s business 
transactions called him to a distant part of the 
county. 

Minnie, fearing that while absent from home, 
he might be tempted to taste the contents of the 
alluring bottle, resolved to accompany him on 
his journey. While they were away Mrs. Em- 
green begged me to remain with her on a visit. 

One evening she surprised me by saying. 
Dear Dolly, did you ever hear anything said 
about our family secret ?” 

No, never. What is it ?” 

Poor Minnie,’' said Mrs. Emgreen, was in 
great trouble about it at first, and I do not want 
her ever to be reminded of it. On that account 
I feel anxious to know whether or not it is talked 
4 


42 


We Four Yillaoers. 


about by the neighbors ; if it was I would re- 
move to some other place. It is that she is not 
my own child. You remember, perhaps, that she 
was only three years old when we came here from 
Philadelphia. We there adopted her the very 
same day on which she was born. Her mother 
was a young widow, only fifteen years old, and 
very poor. She re-married and removed to B. 
county, when Minnie was about two years of 
age. She has several other children, and her 
name is Mrs. Tendem. I have never told these 
particulars to Minnie, but I will some day when 
she will be better able to hear them. She never 
knew anything about her real parentage until 
she heard Mr. Emgreen’s will read. I suppose 
he thought he could not effectually disinherit 
her without betraying it. He would not have 
done it if she had not married Merton Malvers 
against his wishes and commands.” 

While I live,” continued the widow, Min- 
nie shall not suffer the want of a home, she is as 
dear to me as if she were my own child, and her 
babes, are they not the sweetest little creatures 
you ever saw ?” 

Yes, they are beautiful, the very image of 
herself.” 

Merton returned safely, and remained sober 


43 


We Four Villagers. 

about six months. He was then induced to re- 
visit the bar-room and fell a victim to the tempta- 
tions there offered. Poor Minnie, how keen was 
the sorrow with which she saw him once more in 
a state of idiotic intoxication. Why will men 
plunge their nearest and dearest relations, into 
such whirlpools of anguish ? 


CHAPTEE VI. 

THE SUNDAY SCHOOL PICNIC. 

When Merton again recovered the use of his 
senses, he declared he was sorry for the trouble 
he had caused, and vowed never to be led astray 
again. Then during several months his conduct 
was irreproachable. Minnie’s hopes were re- 
vived by his many fair promises, but once more 
they were extinguished by Merton’s repeated 
falls into intoxication ; again and again he fell 
and repented. Thus he vacillated during the 
lapse of several years. 

Sometimes he would remain sober and attend 
to Mrs. Emgreen’s business quite punctually du- 
ring several months, then he would neglect it 
entirely for as many weeks, while he gave him- 


44 


We Foub Villagers. 


self up to a disgraceful indulgence of drinking to 
an excess that kept him constantly inebriated. 

Many were the sleepless nights, which his 
wife spent in weeping over his fatal love of 
liquor. But by this time, the natural conse- 
quence of his habits was manifesting itself by an 
increasing callousness of heart, and an unfeeling 
indifference to her sufferings. 

About this period our village was visited by 
a gentleman from Germany, who was well edu- 
cated, and spoke English very correctly, thereby 
proving that he had learned it in early life. His 
appearance was prepossessing, and he seemed to 
have money enough to support him comfortably. 

He engaged board at the hotel, and re- 
mained there several months. He came into 
our midst an unknown stranger, and without an 
introduction. As usual, in all similar cases, we 
were cautious about receiving him into our 
society, for we Silveryvillites are naturally re- 
served, in our intercourse with strangers. After 
we know people, Ave are hospitable, almost to a 
fault, but in our conduct towards strangers, Ave 
are far from being affable. 

But some how, there was soon an exception 
made to our general rule, in favor of this in- 
teresting young German gentleman, and he 


We FoUK YiLL AGEES. 


45 


was kindly as well as sociably treated by all the 
best families in our village. At this time 
Minnie’s oldest son was a beautiful, bright boy, 
four years of age, named Rudy. One day we 
were all invited to a Sunday school picnic. 
Minnie did not join the party. She was not 
happy anywhere, and pleaded as her excuse for 
not attending it, that her babe was too young, 
either to be taken there, or left at home without 
her. 

Mrs. Emgreen anxiously urged her to go, for 
the sake of little Rudy ; who she knew would 
enjoy it very much. 

But Minnie would not go, and Mrs. Emgreen 
in her wish to gratify the child, resolved she 
would take him ; although it was contrary to her 
custom, to enter any large company since the 
death of her husband. 

On the day of the picnic, the Sunday school 
children and their teachers, met in their school- 
room ; when they were all assembled, they en- 
tered several large coaches, and rode up the 
thickly shaded street of the village, crossed the 
old stone bridge, and entered the deep, green 
woods, Avhere their parents and their friends 
awaited their arrival. As they rode, they were 
escorted by a banner and band of music. Rudy 
4 * 


46 


We Four Yillagers. 


was delighted, and when his kind grandmother 
saw how much he enjoyed it, she rejoiced at 
having taken him there. 

While the children were eating their dinner, 
they were waited upon by their teachers and 
parents. Mrs. Emgreen took her grandson, and 
three other children near him, under her own 
especial care, and saw all their wants properly 
supplied. This occupation she seemed to enjoy 
very much, and I was pleased to see her wear 
once more, on her dear, familiar face, the smiles 
of happiness which had not rested there since 
the decease of Mr. Emgreen. 

At first I was so much engaged in watching 
the children, and her kind attentions to them, 
that I did not notice a tall, dark figure, ever and 
anon, gliding near her. This same tall, dark 
figure, did at last draw my eyes towards it, and 
they discovered, that it would now and then, 
bow its stately head to the ear of the happy- 
looking widow, and appear to whisper words of 
commendation, of encouragement or approbation, 
for the whispered words, whatever they might 
he, were very graciously received, and responded 
to Tvdth smiles and glances, that made me stare 
with amazement. 

Who is he ? Where did he come from ? were 


We Four Yillagers. 


47 


the questions which I put to my nearest neigh- 
bor, as soon as the spell of gazing at him could 
he sufficiently broken, to allow me the liberty of 
using my speech. 

He is,” was the answer, Mr. Gathschlachen- 
gen, he came from Germany, he says, but to me 
he appears more like a Parisian than a German.” 

Not, ever to my knowledge, having seen a 
Parisian I do not know wffiether your remark is 
just or not, but I do know, he is very different 
from all the Germans I ever saw, and that he is 
a magnificent man.” 

When the children were done eating, they 
were again dismissed to their sports and pas- 
times among the rocks and trees. The table 
was then re-set, and re-furnished with fresh sup- 
plies of edibles, from the provision boxes and 
baskets, wdiich seemed in their abundance to be 
inexhaustible. This ceremony completed, we 
all sat down and enjoyed the good things of the 
repast, almost as much as our juvenile compan- 
ions had done. During the meal, and all the time 
we remained in the woods, Mr. Gathschlachen- 
gen continued his attentions either to Mrs. Em- 
green, or her little boy Rudy. He gazed on 
them both, with expressions of intense interest 
and admiration, portrayed on the features of his 


48 


We Four Yillagers. 


uncommonly handsome face. He seemed to 
have neither word nor thought for any other 
person in the whole assembly. 

Now our friend Mrs. Emgreen, was at least 
fifty years of age, and although she was re- 
markably pleasant looking to her old friends, 
who knew her many good qualities of mind and 
disposition, she was not, by any means, to a 
stranger, attractive or prepossessing in her man- 
ners or appearance. 

What then could that beautiful young foreigner 
see in her to induce him to neglect the many 
bright eyes, and blooming charms of a multitude 
of fair damsels by whom he was surrounded ? 

Why did he shun their company, and seek 
only that of the antiquated widow ? 

The affair was, to many of us, an unfathomable 
mystery. 

It was true, that Hudy was a very lovely 
child, and it was evident that the fascinating 
young German did bestow quite as much atten- 
tion on the boy, as he did on his grandma. 

When the day was near its close, the children 
were packed in the coaches, and sent riding to 
their homes. When the hour arrived for the 
final breaking up of the party, Mr. Gathschlach- 
engen walked from the woods with Mrs. Em- 


We Four Villagers. 


49 


green hanging on his arm, while he led E.udy hy 
the hand. Arrived at the house of Mrs. Em- 
green, she invited him to walk in and take tea 
with her. Both invitations ’were gracefully ac- 
cepted. I and another neighbor followed, ^ve 
had promised to spend the evening with Mrs. 
Emgreen. Minnie was watching for our arrival, 
at the parlor window, and was much surprised 
to see us accompanied by the tall, dark stranger. 

But he had scarcely been introduced to her, 
when she seemed to be quite reconciled to his 
presence. He fixed a long, steady gaze upon 
Minnie’s face, and then seemed to be more cap- 
tivated than ever. He evidently admired the 
daughter still more than he had done the mother. 
He gazed, and gazed, on the sad face of poor 
Minnie, with looks that were long and lingering, 
yet so tender, and so sad, in their expression, 
that they could not offend. 

When supper ’was over, w^e all sat around 
the parlor table, talking over the interesting 
events of the past day, and lamenting to Minnie 
that she had not been with us to enjoy them. 
During a sudden pause in the conversation, Mr. 
Gathschlachengen pulled from inside his coat, a 
black ribbon, to which was attached a small 
miniature, richly set in gold and diamonds. This 


50 


We Four Villagers. 


miniature lie looked at very steadily, and then 
handed it to Mrs. Emgreen, and asked her if she 
did not think it resembled her daughter. 

0/' said she, ^4t is the most perfect likeness 
I ever saw, as she was three or four years ago ! 
Where did you get it ?” 

I got it in Germany.” 

Is it your Sister’s miniature ?” I ventured 
to ask him. 

Not my Sister’s, but of one who was as dear 
as a sister. Fate separated us, and she is now 
sleeping with the dead.” 

Then with one more long look at the beautiful 
miniature, he returned it to its hiding place 
under his coat. His sadness was very touching, 
and we all sympathized with him. 

This little affair explained the mystery of his 
attachment to Hudy and his mother, as they bore 
a strong resemblance to each other ; but it did 
not solve the mystery of the attraction, which 
caused him to pay so much attention to Mrs. 
Emgreen. 

When we bade good-night to Minnie and her 
mother, Mr. Gathschlachengen escorted us to 
the doors of our respective houses. 


CHAPTEE YII. 


OUR FIRST NEWSPAPER. 

I no longer wondered at the facility with 
which this unintroduced stranger had worked 
himself into the good will and kind attentions of 
our village people ; for there were charms in his 
manners and conversation, that Avere irresistibly 
fascinating. 

There Avas an expression of combined sAveet- 
ness and sorroAV, beaming from his deep blue 
eyes, Avhich seemed to enter the heart of every 
beholder. 

What a bright prize he Avas for our remaining 
single village belles ! Would any one of them 
win him ? 

The next day at noon I Avas much surprised 
by a call from Mr. Guildhall ; a call from him 
at that time of day was unprecedented ; my sur- 
prise Avas much increased at seeing he was ac- 
companied by Mr. Gathschlachengen ; they lost 
no time in ceremonious conversation, hut at once 
still more excited my amazement, by commu- 
nicating the object of their visit. 

That object Avas the request that Ave Avould 


52 


We Foue Till AGEES. 


subscribe for a weekly paper, which they in- 
tended to publish very soon in Silveryville ! Our 
first Silveryville Newspaper ! 

How my heart bounded with joy at the idea 
of having printed within the limits of our own 
little village, the pages of a newspaper ! It 
made me feel as if we had suddenly become an 
important and highly elevated community. Hith- 
erto we had been dependent upon other places, 
for all the printed news we ever saw, but now 
behold, we were to have them in type of our 
own setting, free from the obligation to other 
people for our weekly knowledge of occurrent 
events. We most willingly subscribed our two 
dollars, and paid them in advance for one year. 

When the welcome paper was thrown into our 
door, I seized it most joyfully, and read its con- 
tents very eagerly. It was printed on a sheet 
of coarse, almost brown paper, such paper as 
now would be considered scarcely good enough 
for wrapping paper ; but in that by-gone, good 
old year, it was thought fine enough for printing 
paper, and was not said to be too coarse, too 
common or dark, by any one of its subscribers ; 
on the contrary, the Silveryvillites were all as 
much pleased with it, as if it had been printed 
on satin, in letters of gold. 


We Four Villagers. 


53 


The paper measured^ when entirely opened; 
twenty inches in length and seventeen in 
breadth. 

It was very interesting to read in the adver- 
tisements; notices; the deathS; marriageS; the 
accidents and descriptions of public meetings; 
the familiar names of our near neighbors; in- 
timate friendS; and of our relatives ! 

The editorial was short; but decidedly to the 
point of advocating; in strong termS; the honor 
and prosperity of our well beloved village. 

When I had read through the entire paper — 
every line and every word of it — I felt more 
than ever interested in the present welfare and 
past history; of its handsome young Editor; Mr. 
Gathschlachengen. 

Very soon I discovered that an intimacy had 
been formed between him and my cousin; Mr. 
Adam Guildhall; of which I was very glad; as 
it gave me an opportunity of asking questions 
about him. 

So anxious was I to know more of his 
past history; that one afternoon; with my knit- 
ting basket on my arm; I started off; and did 
not arrest my progress until I had walked up 
the street; crossed the old stone bridge; and 
arrived at the beautiful residence of my cousin; 

5 


54 


We Four Yillagers. 


Mrs. Ann Guildhall. I found her sitting alone 
at a window, which opened on her flower garden, 
and to a view beyond it of the native forest. 

As soon as I could do so, without appearing 
abrupt, or suspiciously anxious on the subject, I 
made of her several inquiries about the former 
life of Mr. Gathschlachengen. 

She did not hesitate to afford me all the in- 
formation she possessed respecting his past his- 
tory. 

From the account thus willingly furnished me, 
I gleaned the events of the following narrative. 

He was the second son of a rich nobleman in 
Germany. He had living a father, one brother, 
two sisters, but no mother. 

From his mother he inherited the annual in- 
come of five hundred dollars. His father was 
so rich that when his steward made the semi- 
annual deposits of his rents, in the bank for safe 
keeping, they were more in weight than could 
be carried by hand, and had to be conveyed 
there in a wheeled vehicle. When Mr. Gath- 
schlachengen was about eighteen years of age, he 
formed an acquaintance with a plebeian family. 

This family had a daughter of rare and capti- 
vating beauty. She finally had so much influ- 
ence over him, that he resolved to marry her, as 


We Four Villagers. 55 

soon as he should arrive at the age of twenty- 
one years. He knew his father would not ap- 
prove of such an unequal matrimonial engage- 
ment. He therefore tried to keep his intentions 
from his knowledge. But in spite of all his 
efforts to keep them hidden, they were betrayed 
to him, a few months before he became of age. 
As soon as the astounding news w fully com- 
prehended, and believed by the father, he with- 
out delay, through the influence of large sums 
of money, prevailed upon the parents of the 
captivating young Winifrede, to remove her to 
some distant land, under such arrangements, and 
secret movements, that her lover should never 
be able to find her. Soon after her departure 
from Germany, Mr. Gathschlachengen, without 
any reason, conceived the idea that she had been 
transported to North America. So fully was 
his mind possessed with this fancy, that he de- 
termined to go there and endeavor to find her. 
The day after he completed his tw^enty-first year, 
he commenced his preparations for his searching 
voyage. 

In vain his father, brother and sisters, tried 
to persuade him from making such an unneces- 
sary journey ; he was deaf to all their reasoning, 
and insisted upon taking his leave of them. 


56 We Foue Yillageks. 

and turning his face towards the Western Hem- 
isphere. 

When at last his father found he was unalter- 
ably resolved to perform the long journey, he 
became very angry, and at once made a will, in 
which he disinherited his second son, and vowed 
never to give him one dollar. 

Mr. Gathschlachengen thinking more of his 
lost love than of his future fortune, heeded not 
even his father’s wrath, and set sail for the 
United States. 

About a month after his arrival in this coun- 
try, one of his sisters wrote him a letter, con- 
taining lines similar to the following ; 

My Dear Brother : 

I have sorrowful tidings to communicate, 
which I know will fill your heart with grief, and 
it pains me exceedingly, dear Alfred, to be 
obliged to trouble you, with these melancholy 
lines. But there is no help for it; my father 
has commanded me to write them, and I dare 
not disobey him. The object of this letter is to in- 
form you that Winifrede is not in Germany, nor in 
America, neither is she any where on the face 
of the earth, but in her quiet, early grave under 
it.^ She died four weeks ago, of influenza, at 
Gibraltar. 

Now that you know, dearest brother, you can 


We Fouk Yillagees. 


57 


never see her again in this world; will you not, 
our own dear Alfred, return to your native home, 
which seems very sad to us all, because you are 
away from us ? 

Father says if you will come home, he will 
forgive and forget all your past disobedience; 
and that he will destroy his will, and make 
another largely in your favor, the very day of 
your arrival. 

Brother and sister send you their most affec- 
tionate expressions of fraternal love, and we all 
unite in most lovingly urging you to return 
home, as soon as possible, and restore to us all 
our former domestic happiness. 

Your loving Sister, 

&c., &c., &c. 

Alfred Gathschlachengen’s heart was torn with 
keenest anguish when he read this sad letter 
from his favorite sister. 

He answered it with many expressions of 
affection toward her, her sister and her brother. 

But not one word of greeting, or of message, 
did he ever send to his father. He blamed him 
for the death of Winifrede, and in his anger, he 
vowed never to return to Germany, where the 
scenes and people would be constantly remind- 
ing him of his lost, and well-heloved, fair young 
Winifrede. He never ceased to wear mourning. 

0 * 


58 


We Four Villagers. 


After that he spent his time in ^Yanclering 
about through different cities and towns. His 
five hundred dollars a year^ kept him from abso- 
lute want; but it did not by any means suffice to 
supply him with the luxuries of life, to which he 
had always been accustomed. 

In order to increase his pecuniary income, to 
be able to indulge more freely in the use of those 
luxuries, he would sometimes engage in teach- 
ing the French and German languages, at others 
he would per chance, 'pick up a few hard earned 
dollars, by writing for the press. In his roving, 
from place to place, he chanced to visit our vil- 
lage. He had now been in America about two 
years, and began to feel that he would like to 
settle down in a home of his own, if he could be 
so fortunate as to become the master of one. 
Our beautiful little town pleased him very much. 
Its double rows of quivering, silvery aspen trees 
that shade the side walks of its quiet, grassy 
streets, the glittering of large portions of isin- 
glass, mixed with the stones used in building its 
houses, and with which the streets are also par- 
tially covered, rendered it a very beautiful, 
bright place, and fully entitled it to the name of 
Silvery. 

Its beautiful groves of weeping willows, its 


We Four Villagers. 


59 


wooded walks, its deep clear creek, the purling 
brook that flows into it, so well calculated to 
afford pleasure to boat rowers, and to trout- 
anglers, were all of them powerful objects of at- 
traction to Mr. Gathschlachengen, and as soon as 
he became aware of the existence of all these rarely 
combined advantages, he resolved to . cast in his 
lot, with the good people of our delightful village. 

He soon won his way into the good graces of 
Mr. Guildhall, by the elegance of his manners 
and conversation. It was through his advice 
and influence, that he formed the project of start- 
ing a weekly paper in our midst. He was 
totally ignorant of the art of printing, but Mr. 
Guildhall conquered that difficulty, by hiring a 
journeyman printer, from Winterville, to manage 
and conduct the mechanical part of the enter- 
prise. Of course to get it successfully afloat 
required more capital than Mr. Gathschlaclien- 
gen could command, or collect from his subscri- 
bers, but Mr. Guildhall was a man of means, and 
wonderfully accommodating in making loans of 
money to him. 

How is all this to end ? said I to cousin 
Ann Guildhall. 

0, he will pay them all one of these days, 
Mr. Guildhall thinks.” 




60 We Four Villagers. 

But how can he^ Cousin Ann ? the paper will 
never pay w^ell enough to enable him to extri- 
cate himself from debt.’’ 

^^Mr. Guildhall says he will marry money 
and then pay all he ow^es.” 

Marry money, thought I to myself, w^ho will 
he marry ? then in my own mind I made a re- 
view of all the marriageable heiresses, and 
heiresses apparent, not only in Silveryville, but 
likewise, in a circuit several miles around it, an 1 
I could not find one among them all, who w^as 
not already engaged to be married to somebody 
else. There were many young ladies in the 
neighborhood, w^ho no doubt would have been 
highly pleased with his particular attentions, but 
among them there was not one who had re- 
ceived, or ever expected to inherit a fortune. 
Of whom then could my cousin be thinking, for 
it was evident that she waB thinking of some fair, 
fortunate lady, who might in future, become Mrs. 
Gathschlachengen. I puzzled myself some 
minutes, trying to solve the mystery, and then 
came to the conclusion, that he must be engaged 
to some lady of wealth, of some other town, or 
place, who w^as unknown to me. Then I said 
to Cousin Ann, 

Marry money, to whom is he to be married ?” 


We Four Villagers. 


61 


must not tell.” 

Do you know the lady’s name ?” 

0 yes, Cousin Dolly, I know it very well and 
so do you too.” 

Do tell me who she is.” 

It is not yet decided with certainty, but Mr. 
Guildhall believes, that after a while, he will 
marry one who has plenty of cash at her com- 
mand.” 

One whom we both know ? 

Yes and have known many years.” 

Then he must be intending to try to induce 
some one of our rich girls to break a solemn en- 
gagement ! if he has no better principle than 
that, he had better never have come to Silvery- 
ville.” 

No engagement will be broken, the lady in 
question is at perfect liberty, and entirely free.” 

Who is she. Cousin Ann ?” 

Wait until the affair is a little more advanced, 
and then I will tell you all about it.” 

0 tell me now, please do !” 

^^No, not yet, wait a little longer. If it 
should be too freely talked about through the 
village, it might be all frustrated, and then Mr. 
Guildhall would not recover the money he has 
advanced through Mr. Gathschlachengen, for the 


62 


We FoUE YiLL AGEES. 


public good. So now let the matter rest in 
silence. I dare say you will know all about it 
before any body else.” 

Then as if to change the subject, she suddenly 
said, 

Do you know that Mr. Gathschlachengen has 
taken boarding at Mrs. Emgreen’s ?” 

No, it cannot be possible !” 

“ But it is possible, and actual too, for he has 
been boarding there these two ’weeks.” 

Why, Cousin Ann, how you astonish me ! 
What has induced him to board there ?” 

The comforts of a private home, and econo- 
my combined I presume, as she boards him for 
much less than he paid at the hotel.” 

But how strange in Mrs. Emgreen, to bother 
herself with a boarder ! She is very foolish ?” 

‘‘So Mr, Guildhall thinJcSy' said Cousin Ann 
quite emphatically. 

Then after another pause she said. 

Do you know that Minnie Malvers’ children 
are sick with the measles ?” 

^^No I do not, are they?” 

^^Yes, cousin Dolly what ails you? You 
seem to be getting quite behind the age, and 
ignorant of all that is going on among your neigh- 
bors, what is the matter with you ?” 


We Four Yillagers. 


63 


Nothing. But it is very strange I had not 
heard of the sickness of Minnie’s children, are 
they very ill ?” 

Not yet, they were taken sick day before 
yesterday. It appears that Budy is the most 
severely attacked.” 

I am sorry,” said I, of this new affliction 
to poor Minnie, there seems to be no end to her 
troubles ; Merton I believe is not doing any 
better ? 

^^No, he does worse and worse; it is a pity 
there is not some person there to take a manly and 
firm charge of their domestic affairs, who might 
exercise some authority over Merton’s conduct 
and prevent his spreeing as much as he does.” 

If the influence of a good, loving wife, an in- 
dulgent, rich mother-in-law, and such beautiful 
children as he has, cannot prevent it, what else 
can he expected to have that effect ?” 

Perhaps the authority of a father-in-law might.” 

^^Why then did it not while Mr. Emgreen 
lived ?” 

I think it did, for you know he did much 
better then, than he does now.” 

So he did, hut his conduct was not what it 
ought to have been, and such habits as his, are 
progressive, they tend naturally downwards, to 


64 


We Four Yillagers. 


ruin, where they must end, unless they are ar- 
rested by the power of divine grace, and that 
grace I much fear, is not sought by either Min- 
nie or her mother.’’ 

^^Nor by Merton.” 

Of course not by him, how could it be, while 
his senses are almost constantly stupified by the 
fumes of suicidal alcohol ?” 

That is true,” said cousin Ann, it is a pity 
that Mr. Emgreen was removed from his family.” 

And a greater pity still, that Minnie dared 
to take her destiny in her own hands, by mar- 
rying Merton contrary to his commands. It 
often happens that when the young think they 
are wiser than their elders, a lifetime of misery 
and suffering is the inevitable forfeit. Poor 
Minnie, it is well for her that her mother re- 
mains.” 

‘^Do you not notice, cousin Dolly, that they 
have both become very remiss in their religious 
duties, since the death of Mr. Emgreen ?” 

This was to me a painful subject, and I could 
not bear to discuss it, I therefore cut it short by 
preparing to return to my own home. 

By this time the evening was well advanced, 
the night dews were falling heavily, the moon 
was rising with full orbed, mellow splendor 


We Four Yillagers. 


65 


above the tops of the aspen trees, and willow 
groves of Silveryville, the crickets sang merrily 
among the adjoining grass-plots and fall flower- 
beds. I rolled up my knitting, which all this 
time had been steadily growing in length, in 
proportion to the lessening of my yarn ball ; I 
deposited it safely in my knitting basket, then 
bidding Cousin Ann good night, I walked through 
the mellow moon-light to my own peaceful home, 
where I spent another hour in knitting, listening 
to the ticking of the dark, old clock in the cor- 
ner, and meditating painfully, over all that Cou- 
sin Ann had told me, before I retired to rest for 
the night. 


CHAPTEK YIII. 

A CHANGE. 

The next evening, as soon as our supper was 
over, I went to Mrs. Emgreen’s, to inquire after 
Minnie’s sick children. To my great surprise, 
I found Mr. Gathschlachengen intimately do- 
mesticated in the establishment, and occupying, 
in the sick chamber, the place that should have 
been filled by Merton Malvers only. It appeared 
6 


66 


We FoUK YiLL AGEES. 


he had the sole charge of nursing Rudy. I felt 
that since the father was absent, and need of aid 
existed, I should have been called upon to furnish 
it, instead of that intrusive stranger. 

I soon left them, and did not repeat my visit 
until I heard that Rudy was not expected to 
live ; I then hastened to his side, my affection 
for the dear child induced me to endure meeting 
Mr. Gathschlachengen, and to witness the dis- 
tress of poor Minnie. When I entered the sick 
room I was greatly relieved at seeing Merton in 
his sober senses,” and in deep sorrow, at the 
head of Rudy’s bed gazing sadly upon the dis- 
torted features of his suffering child. I remained 
there all night, and through its wearisome hours 
of dread and anxiety, Merton did not leave the 
room. 

Mr. Gathschlachengen was assiduously atten- 
tive to the invalid, and equally so to his afflicted 
parents. He remained in the sick room until 
mid-night, and then retired to his own. At 
three o’clock in the morning, Rudy’s worst symp- 
toms began to abate their violence, and by sun- 
rise, he seemed to be slightly improving. 

When the doctor called at nine o’clock, he 
said he thought the crisis was over, and that we 
might hope for the dear child’s restoration to 


We Four Villagers. 


67 


health. lie finally, after lingering several weeks, 
recovered so far as to be able to leave his bed. 
But he waxs incurably deaf, and so feeble and 
delicate, that he never again seemed like the 
same child. 

Soon as he was relieved from the immediate 
danger of dying, Merton returned to his intem- 
perate habits. By this time he wais so habitu- 
ally negligent of all his duties, parental and do- 
mestic, that Mrs. Emgreen could not trust him 
wdth the care of her business. 

Gradually Mr. Gathschlachengen was working 
his way, into having the control of all her pecu- 
niary arrangements. 

About this time, death removed Merton’s 
uncle, Mr. Maysin ; his widow lived on a large 
farm in a distant part of Pennsylvania. 

The farm w^as located in a secluded neighbor- 
hood, far removed from any tavern or hotel. 
Mrs. Maysin had heard of her nephew’s evil 
habits, and desiring, if possible, to arrest them in 
time to save him from destruction, she conceived 
the idea that if he was living with her, and had 
the care of her farm — wdiere there WLas no neces- 
sity for his engaging in severe manual labor — 
he might still become a reformed and useful man. 

As he had been reared on a large farm, he was 


We Foue Yillagees. 


experimentally well qualified to take cliarge of 
one. When her letter^ in which she made known 
this project to Minnie, was read, she was much 
pleased with it, and immediately returned 
another, in which she warmly expressed many 
thanks for the interest manifested in the welfare 
of her deluded husband. 

At the end of two w^eeks, Merton, Minnie and 
their three young children moved from Silvery- 
ville, to the home of Mrs. Maysin, on Island 
Farm. 

About a month after their departure, the 
readers of our own newspaper, were much sur- 
prised when they saw in it, the following an- 
nouncement ; 

“ Married last evening, at the residence of the bride, by the 
Rev. Mr. Schwartzen, Mr. Alfred Gathschlachengen, Editor 
of this paper, to Mrs. Minnie Emgreen.” 

This marriage would have been laughably ri- 
diculous, if it had not been for the misfortunes, 
which any one could see must follow in its train. 

The folly of it was too painful for ridicule. 
The marriage ceremony was scarcely concluded 
before ^klr. Adam Guildhall demanded the pay- 
ment of the notes, which he held against the new 
husband. These notes had in some mysterious 
way, grown in amount, from a few hundred dol- 


We Four Yillagers. 


69 


lars, to the enormous sum of nearly two thou- 
sand. Mr. Gathschlachengen declared he could 
not understand how it could be so much larger 
than he thought it was. 

That is your signature, is it not ?” said the 
man of law, with an angry gesture, as he pointed 
to the name of the amazed editor on one of the 
notes. 

Yes, yes, that is my signature.’' 

Then, sir, you see the only mistake about it, 
is in the weakness of your own memory, which 
has forced you to forget the amount of your 
notes.” 

Mr. Gathschlachengen could not believe that 
his memory was so feeble. But it was in reality 
greatly at fault, for it entirely failed to remind 
him how frequently he had retired with Mr. 
Guildhall into his private office, and how often 
they two, unintruded on by other company, had 
therein spent hours after hours engaged only in 
friendly conversation, while they sipped luxuri- 
ously from dainty glasses, noyau cordial, cham- 
pagne wine, and other expensive foreign liquors 
which were such a treat to his epicurean palate, 
as they forcibly reminded him of his father’s well 
supplied tables. It failed to inform him how 
many times he loved to linger in that private 
6 * 


70 


We Four Yillagers. 


office^ thus occupied, until liis senses were 
strangely overpowered by these costly liquid 
delights, and that under their influence he often 
had been scarcely able to find his way to bed. 
It failed also to remind him, that at the time of 
signing the notes, those same famous liquors 
were always strongest in their effects, and that 
at such time, they were most bountifully urged 
on his acceptance by their artful and designing 
owner. 

Poor Mr. Gathschlachengen ! his memory was 
most sadly deficient in its duty to his welfare. 
Yet there were the notes against him, and he 
had to invest in their payment, a large portion 
of his newly acquired wealth. 

lie soon afterwards sold out his interest in the 
publication of the Silveryville newspaper ; and 
betokened in his conduct, that he intended to live 
at his ease during the remainder of his life. 

About two weeks after his marriage, I received 
the following letters from Minnie Malvers : 

Island Farm, ' 

My Dear Dolly: 

I wish you could see how comfortably we are 
getting along here, on this beautiful fiirm. 

Aunt Maysin is exceedingly kind to us. Rudy 


We Four Villagers. 71 

is still drooping, and I am afraid will never be 
better. The other children are very w^ell. 

Our coming here has been a blessed change 
for poor Merton. He already seems like another 
man, he is very attentive to Aunt’s affairs, and 
affords her perfect satisfaction. She conducts 
her farm on strictly temperance principles, and 
will not allow any intoxicating liquor to be 
used on it as a beverage. 

The situation of the house is delightful, it 
stands within sight of the Susquehanna Hiver, 
and within a stone’s throw of its western bank. 
The bright, broad stream forms a sudden bend 
around a part of the farm, and makes it look 
very much like an island. The house stands in 
a beautiful broad valley. This valley lies under 
the richest and most fertile cultivation ; the soil 
is rich and yields abundantly. There are two 
large orchards on the farm, besides quite a large 
number of fruit trees of various kinds nearer the 
house. 

There are two large barns in the vicinity of 
the house, each one is much more extensive in 
size than the dwelling. They are almost as well 
finished as the house, as they are painted and 
glazed and ornamented with wood-work devices, 
until they are quite adorning to the beautiful 


72 


We Four Yillagers. 


scene by which they are surrounded. Besides 
these two large barns, there are other out-build- 
ings, more in number than I have yet had time to 
count. But among them, in my estimation, as 
number one, is the spring house embowered in a 
cluster of weeping willow trees. The weeping 
willows ! how I love them ! they so forcibly 
remind me of dear old Silveryville, and its 
gay, green groves of weeping willows ! These 
around Aunt’s spring house, are the only ones I 
have seen in the neighborhood. 

The Pennsylvania Spring house ! was there 
ever in the “wide, wide world,” a sweeter, clean- 
er or colder place than a Pennsylvania Spring 
house? Aunt’s is built over a never failing 
spring of pure, clear, cold water. It is a small 
stone building, not far from the dwelling house ; 
it has a shed-like roof of white pine boards 
painted red out-side and white wuthin. The wmlls 
are from seven to eight feet high, and are very 
thick. In the centre there is a solid stone floor, 
about five feet square ; around this stone floor the 
water flow^s to the depth of six or seven inches. 
In this shallow water, the pans of milk, cream 
and butter are kept standing. There are shelves 
for holding pies, bread, &c. 

Aunt is very particular about her dairy, and 


We Foue Till AGEES. 


73 


makes butter of the very best quality. The 
view around us is very extensive and enchant- 
ingly beautiful. 

We have not many very near neighbors; but 
the few we have are kind and friendly. 

I hope Mr. Gathschlachengen will be kind to 
mother; but it must be confessed he is much too 
young to make her a suitable husband. 

YourS; &C.; (fee. 


CHAPTEE IX. 

A RAO CARPET PARTY. 

Island Farm, 

My Dear Dolly : 

Although this is a busy njonth on the farni; 
we find sometime for social enjoyments. 

The other day; one of our neighbors who lives 
about five miles beyond our place; invited all the 
gentry in the vicinity to a rag carpet party. 
^Yhen the invitations were given; they were re- 
ceived on all sides by a goodwilled and exceed- 
ingly popular response. 

On the day appointed for the party; we had 
an early dinner. At half past twelve o’clock, 
we started for the house of feasting. Aunt Mcay- 


74 


We Foue Yillagers. 


sill wished to be there early, she said, to be able 
to give a good long afternoon’s help at the work 
among the carpet rags. We arrived there at 
half-past one o’clock. Pennsylvania farm-horses, 
you know, choose their own gait, and are not 
allowed to be hurried out of it, especially when 
driven by feminine hands, as the majority of 
them are, on going to these social gatherings. 

When we entered the house, we found, early 
as we were, four other neighbors already there, 
and hard at work. 

In the middle of the reception room — the best 
parlor — were placed two very large willow bas- 
kets, heaped up full of cut carpet rags. 

We immediately went to work, sewing at them 
as fast as we could, and rolled them into balls 
that weighed, each one, as nearly as we could 
guess, a half a pound. 

Soon after our arrival, the invited guests 
came in very rapidly, until about half-past tu’o 
o’clock. At that hour, there were about forty 
well dressed, smiling and happy-looking ladies 
present. They were all busily plying their 
needles with telegraphic speed, and many of 
them were using their tongues quite as nimbly 
as they were their sewing implements. But 
some few of the party were as silent as mum- 


We Foue Yillagees. 


75 


mies, and as shy as rabbits. They were un- 
doubtedly very reserved in their nature, or unac- 
customed to meet so many persons as were then 
present. 

The majority were young people. Besides 
our Aunt, there were only two other middle 
aged matrons present. We all sewed very in- 
dustriously. It was an amusing — an animated 
scene to view the drawing in and out of so many 
needles at once. The twisting and twirling — 
the winding and twining of so many gaily colored 
rags, as they were busily wrapped into balls by 
jewel-decked fingers, formed a many-tinted and 
kaleidoscopic prospect. 

By five o’clock, the heaps of cut rags were all 
converted into smoothly wound, neatly round 
balls, and were gathered together from various 
parts of the large room, by the most active of 
the visitors, they were then safely deposited in 
the two large willow baskets. The baskets were 
then put one on top of the other in the centre 
of the room where they were left, as a monu- 
ment of approval in memory of our industry. 
Very soon afterwards, we were invited, out 
to supper. The evening meal was handsomely 
spread on a long, broad table in the centre of an 
immense dining-room. The table was filled with 


76 


We Fouk Yillagees. 


a superabundance of all the good things of the 
season, among which were conspicuous, the 
quickly emptied plates fresh buckwheat cakes. 
These cakes are as highly prized here, as in any 
other part of our Keystone State. The supper 
was of the very best of everything, deliciously 
prepared and duly enjoyed. But it was in 
general so much like party suppers in Silvery- 
ville, that I need not describe it. The only 
fault that can be found with them is, their super- 
abundance and variety of luxuries. 

On our return to the parlor, we found the 
monumental baskets of rag balls had become in- 
visible, threads, needle-books, scraps and litters 
had all been removed. The room had been 
swept, and set in order, as if freshly jwepared 
for the arrival of company. Clear white wax 
and sperm candles were placed upon the tables 
and mantles, and altogether the place looked 
very different from the factory-looking affair, it 
almost seemed to be during the few last hours. 

Early in the evening the invited gentlemen 
of the neighborhood began to arrive, and by 
seven o’clock, there were quite as many of them 
in the room as there were of ladies. 

Then commenced the games and sports of the 
evening. 


We Pour Yillagers. 


77 


But, dear Dolly, I am so tired now of writing, 
that I cannot at present tell you any more about 
this gay and lively rag carpet party. Merton 
came in the evening, and was the life and light 
of the whole room. lie was in excellent spirits, 
and in his sober senses too, for there was noth- 
ing there to tempt him out of them. Lemonade, 
sweet cider and pure cold water were the only 
beverages, offered to the guests, after the tea 
and coffee of the supper. 

This was decidedly the happiest evening I 
have experienced in a long, long time. 

Budy is getting better, and sometimes I fancy 
that his hearing is improving. 

Write to me very soon, and tell me all you 
can about mother and her interesting young 
husband. 

Yours, &c., &c., 

Minnie M. 


7 


CHAPTEE X. 


APPLE BUTTER BOILING. 

Island Farm. 

My Dear Dolly : 

Rudy is still improvingj^ and Merton is all my 
heart can wish him to he. Aunt is still very 
kind to us, and she seems very well satisfied 
with Merton’s mode of conducting her farm. 

My other children are well, and growing finely. 
Therefore I ought to he very happy. But I am 
not. Aunt’s only son, you know, is traveling 
in Europe, and will he absent from home about 
a year longer. When he returns, he will proba- 
bly wish to take the farm, and Aunt’s other 
affairs, into his own hands, in which case I shall 
feel that our presence will be unrequired in this 
place — and then where are we to go ? 

This painful question, always unanswered, 
keeps me in a state of perpetual anxiety when- 
ever I think of it. Fortunately I am kept so 
busily employed, and so pleasantly occupied, 
that I have not much time to indulge my fancy 


We Foue Yillagees. 


79 


With forebodings, about the uncertainty of our 
future destiny. 

The other night, Aunt Maysin had an apple- 
butter boiling entertainment, this being an event 
almost unknown in Silveryville, perhaps you may 
be interested in reading a description of it. 

Two days before the one appointed for the 
boiling of the apple-butter, several men were en- 
gaged in grinding apples, in a large mill, for the 
purpose of making cider. They made several 
large barrels full, some of sweet, some of sour 
apples, and some of - both kinds mixed together. 

On the afternoon of the day of the apple-butter 
boiling, all hands about the house and farm were 
kept at work, very hurriedly, at paring, quarter- 
ing and coring apples. At about seven o’clock, 
P.M., they hung up two large copper kettles, by 
iron chains, hanging on two large hickory poles, 
placed very high up the chimney, and supported 
there by two thick iron bars that were strongly 
secured in the masonry of the large stone chimney. 
They filled these large kettles with fresh, sw^eet 
cider, then made a roaring wood fire under them. 

Meanwhile the apple paring and cutting were 
continued very hurriedly. When the cider be- 
gan to boil, it was carefully skimmed until it was 
boiled perfectly clear. 


80 


We FoUK YiLL AGEES. 


Aunt then measured the cut apples to see if 
she had a sufficient number prepared^ finding she 
had, they were all washed very nicely, then 
mashed (but not ground) in a patent apple-press, 
then poured into one of the kettles of boiling 
cider. As soon as they were all in, the process 
of stirring commenced, which it is necessary to 
continue incessantly until the apple-butter is 
done. It generally requires about twelve hours 
of hard and constant stirring. 

The stirrer used for the purpose, is composed 
of a strong wooden handle, eight or ten feet long, 
firmly fixed in a dasher, eighteen or twenty inch- 
es long and four or five broad, and about one 
and a half thick. There are eight, ten or twelve 
large auger holes bored in the lower part of the 
dasher. 

By eight o’clock in the evening, the invited 
apple-butter stirrers began to assemble, they 
were the youth of both sexes of the neighbor- 
hood. Some of them came several miles, on 
horseback or in carriages, to enjoy the sports of 
this merry apple-butter boiling. 

Then the stirring went on most vigorously, 
and the piles of wood that were consumed under 
those two kettles would have sufficed, I believe, 
to build a moderate sized dwelling house. I 


We Four Yillagers. 


81 


noticed that whenever the stirrer was taken by 
a gentleman^ from the hands of a lady, he was 
privileged to snatch a kiss from her face at the 
same time — if he could. The many unsuccess- 
ful attempts which were made to secure that 
pleasure, caused a great amount of merriment. 
The stirring, laughing and chatting continued, 
without interruption, until ten o’clock, at that 
time, cakes, apples, chestnuts, lemonade and 
sweet cider were handed round to the company. 
At twelve o’clock one-half the party sat down to 
a sumptuous supper table, at which the aromatic 
steams of boiling hot tea and coffee, were added 
to the many other good things which graced the 
mid-night meal. 

When they were done eating, they returned 
to the operation of stirring, and the other half of 
the party repaired to the dining-room, to feast 
on the delicacies that were spread out before 
them. At about three o’clock in the morning, 
the invited guests took their departure to their 
own homes. Then the labor of stirring was left 
to the members of our own familj^ 

As the cider boiled away in the kettle that 
contained the apples, it was fdled from the other 
with boiling cider. At about four o’clock. Aunt 
filled some large stone jugs with the clear, boil- 


82 


We Four Yillagers. 


ing cider, which she said w\as to be used iu mak- 
ing her mince pies next Christmas. At about 
seven o’clock the apple-butter was pronounced 
done, and then stowed away in earthen jars. 
This, you know, is a constant relish on the far- 
mers’ tables in Pennsylvania, and is invariably 
found on them three times daily, I was always 
fond of it, but I will esteem it more than ever 
now that I know how much labor and trouble 
it requires to make it. 

Yours affectionately, 

Minnie Malvers. 


This was the last letter I ever received from 
Minnie. Soon after she wrote it, her son Rudy 
was taken sick. After lingering several weeks, 
he breathed his last, and his infantile spirit was 
released from its suffering house of mortal clay. 

Minnie grieved over his death so sadljq that 
she could not afterwards write to me from the 
Island Farm. 

The scenes, sights and sounds of the farm re- 
minded her so vividly of her lost love, that she 
was weary of them. Yet judging that to remain 
there was the only plan of safety for her hus- 
band, she bore her sufferings silently, and fell 


'\Ye Four Villagers. 


83 


into a dull state of melancholy, which greatly 
distressed good Mrs. Maysin. 

All this time things went on as usual at Sil- 
veryville. Mrs. Gathschlachengen was as loud 
as ever, in praising her darling young husband. 
There was no fault about him, visible to her 
love-blinded eyes. Through the day he sat 
about the house, quietly reading, or spent his 
time in attending to the business of his estate, 
his it was according to law, and his he failed not 
to call and consider it, in every sense of the 
wmrd. The term ^^ours,” respecting it, w^as never 
uttered by Mr. Gathschlachengen. 

lie sometimes received very affectionate let- 
ters, and very handsome presents from his 
sisters, but never a line, or a letter, or a word 
of message passed between him and his father. 
The presents sent by his sisters, consisted gen- 
erally of valuable jewelry, more suitable for the 
use of ladies than gentlemen ; and they were in- 
variably sent off to Minnie as presents from him, 

I often thought they ought to have been given 
to his wife, instead of her daughter. Ilis even- 
ings w^ere always passed with Mr. Amos Guild- 
hall, in his private office, and there he usually 
remained until long after midnight. 

About eight months after the death of little 


84 


We Toue Yillageks. 


E-udy Malvers, Mr. Gatlisclilacliengen s physical 
healtdi began to fail, he grew very pale, sallow 
and thin. 

Soon after, he lost both his cheerfulness and 
his appetite. His devoted old wdfe became 
much alarmed by these sad changes in his ap- 
pearance, and wished at once to call in medical 
advice, but he would not consent to her doing 
so ; he said he was not sick, and would not have 
the attention of a physician. 

]Mrs. Gathschlachengen then, unknown to her 
husband, called on Dr. Green, our best physi- 
cian, and told him of her fears on his account. 
By questioning her very closely, the doctor ob- 
tained from the anxious wife, a correct descrip- 
tion of his way of living, and in answer he said 
to her, 

0, don’t worry yourself about him, I do not 
think there is much the matter with him ; but 
you must urge upon him the necessity of his retir- 
ing to rest more regularly, at an early hour of 
the night, even before ten o’clock ; there is noth- 
ing so injurious to a young person as sitting up 
late at night. Prevail on him to retire early, 
and I dare say his appetite, natural complexion 
and cheerfulness will all return in good time.” 

After that, she did try very hard to persuade 


85 


We Four Villagers. 

him to do as the doctor had recommended. But 
her earnest endeavors were all in vain ; they had 
no more elFect on his conduct^ than the summer’s 
zephyr has upon the surface of a smooth^ hard 
rock. 

He would not yield for one moment to her per- 
suasions, but continued to remain out as late and 
as often as he ever did. At last she gave up the 
point in despair, and watched in sorrowing 
silence, the sure and steadfast inroads, which 
some fearful malady was assuredly making on 
his youthful frame. In this manner several 
months passed away. At the end of the Winter 
he was unable to leave his bed ; then Mr. Guild- 
hall visited him regularly every night, and al- 
WLays carried with him a small black bottle. 
Over the contents of that same bottle, the two 
gentlemen would sit, and laugh, and talk in a 
low voice until a very late hour. At last Mr.Gath- 
schlachengen consented to call in medical advice. 

After visiting him two or three times, when 
questioned upon the nature of his sickness, by 
his friends and neighbors. Hr. Green would look 
mysterious, shake his head very solemnly, an 1 
say — nothing. When Mr. Gathschlachengen had 
been bed-fast about four weeks, Mr. Guildhall 
was obliged to leave home, and spend a week 


86 


We FoUE YiLL AGEES. 


at Winterville. About three days after his de- 
parture, Mr. Gathschlachengen was suddenly 
siezed with violent convulsions. lie lingered 
apparently in great agony, during the space of 
twenty-four hours, and then in violent contor- 
tions of face and form, he yielded his breath to 
the invincible conqueror. Death. 

His wife was inconsolable at her irreparable 
loss, and craved so earnestly for the company of 
Minnie, that she was obliged to return to Sil- 
veryville. As Mrs. Maysin was expecting her 
son home very soon, it was no longer necessary 
that Merton should remain at Island Farm, he, 
therefore, also returned to his former home with 
Mrs. Gathschlachengen. 

Minnie was very glad to leave the farm, and 
be once more at the side of her mother. 

Things went on very smoothly with them all 
for several months. Merton refrained from visit- 
ing his old haunts, and was not tempted to break 
his sobriety. But, at the end of that time, fresh 
and unforeseen misfortunes thickened over their 
home. 

Mr. Guildhall brought claims against the 
beautiful large dwelling, surrounded by a shady 
willow grove, in which they resided, and against 
every acre of their real estate, except a few lots 


We Four Yillagers. 87 

of little value in remote streets of the village. 
These lots were all vacant except one, on which 
there, stood a small and very old house. 

These claims he said, were in consequence of 
large sums of money he had loaned to Mr. Gath- 
schlachengen. The astonished widow was loud 
in her protestations of the iujustice and illegality 
of all his claims. But her earnest eloquence 
wvas in vain, the whole splendid property was 
put up for sale by the sheriff, and knocked off 
to the highest bidder. Of course that bidder 
was Mr. Guildhall, no one in the village dared 
bid against him. 

He therefore took possession of the magnificent 
property at less than one fourth of its value, and 
even that small sum he was not obliged to pay, 
except by cancelling his claims against the 
estate. When Mrs. Gathschlachengen found she 
really had to move into her smaller house, she 
made a public sale of her furniture, from which 
she reserved only such articles as would be 
needed in her future contracted dwelling-place. 
This sale and her forced removal were bravely 
borne by the injured old lady, and she was far 
from sinking under it. On Minnie the removal 
had an exhilarating effect, as it weaned her from 
brooding over the death of her darling Rudy. 


We Four Villagers. 


But on Merton the consequences were very 
disastrous. In looking around the village for an 
occupation, the only one offered him was that of 
bar-tender at the hotel. There was no choice 
to be exercised on the subject, he either had to 
accept it or nothing. He accepted, and was not 
in his new situation many weeks, before his con- 
duct proved it to be very unsuitable. 

Yet what could they do? 

In this their sad dilemma, they unfortunately 
had not the religious faith and trust in the power 
and goodness of a Father in heaven, which are 
of such incalculable value to every son and 
daughter of Adam, who can flee unto them for 
aid and refuge when assailed by the storms and 
adversities of life. 

How miserable, hopeless and helpless they all 
were, because of a want of Faith ! 


CHAPTEE XI. 


MANY CHANGES. ^ 

During three years, after Minnie’s removal to 
her new home, I saw her very seldom. She 
spent, them sadly pining over the sorrows of her 
lot in life, and in attending to the care of her chil- 
dren. For their supportshe was almost entirely 
dependent upon the few remaining resources of 
her mother. In order to make them last as 
long as they could, they lived as economically as 
was possible; did all their own work, kept a 
frugal table, and spent very little on their ward- 
robe. Merton retained his situation; he had 
sense enough left to realize the importance of 
keeping it. The company he there met, suited 
his taste, which reconciled his mind to the ser- 
vility of his office. 

He drank freely, but managed to keep sober 
during his business hours, and when they were 
concluded, he indulged unrestrainedly in the use 
of the bottle. He paid his mother-in-law two 
dollars per week for boarding his wife and 


90 


We Foue Yillagees. 


children. Those one hundred dollars a year, 
formed the sum total he ever spent for his family. 
He boarded at the hotel. 

During these three years, as I have already 
stated, I saw very little of Minnie. As they 
passed swiftly, but sadly, over our village, many 
changes occurred in my own famil}^ These 
changes I will not loiter to describe, but merely 
glance at ; for this is not a history of my own 
life, but of poor Minnie. 

In the first year, all my remaining single 
brothers and sisters were married, and removed 
to their own homes. Some in, and others out of 
Silveryville, so that our house and my beloved 
parents were left to my individual care and at- 
tention. 

On that account I was kept closely at home, 
and knew very little of what was going on 
among my neighbors. About the middle of the 
second year, my mother was taken sick — after 
lingering three months, she died. Soon after 
her funeral was over, my father became the victim 
of an incurable illness, and was kept on the bed 
of suffering almost a year. Then at last, he too 
died, and I was left alone in the house in which 
I was born. Soon after my father’s death, I 
commenced teaching school for my own support. 


We Four Yillagees. 


91 


Several homes were offered to me^ but I preferred 
to keep my own. 

All these chances and changes of this mortal 
life/' left me without leisure time, in which I 
could look around me, and see vvdiat events 
and circumstances were transpiring among my 
neighbors. Therefore, Minnie and I seldom 
met ; we were both too much absorbed in our 
own domestic duties, to think of, or visit each 
other very often. But at the end of these three 
years, I found myself quietly setted down in 
my new state of affairs ; the hurry and the ex- 
citement of the domestic trials through which I 
had passed, and that, like an impenetrable cloud, 
had been wrapped around my social feelings, 
hemming them in on all sides of my mental vision, 
and concentrating all my thoughts within the 
narrow limits of my own home, were now 
passed away from my domestic horizon, so that 
I could see clearly around me, and again feel an 
interest in other affairs than those of my own 
household. 

Soon after this mental and domestic clearing- 
up time, I one evening took my knitting basket — 
my knitting was never forsaken under any cir- 
cumstances — and went to make a social call on 
Minnie Malvers. 


92 


We Four Yillagers. 


I found her with two babies on her lap, one 
aged three months, and the other fifteen. 
Nursing, w^ashing, dressing, undressing, feed- 
ing and putting to rest her numerous family 
of children, seemed to be all that she could find 
time to do. 

Yet, busy as she was, she appeared very glad 
to see me. She was not over-run with visitors. 

The friendly calls of her neighbors had lately 
grown to be ^Yew and fiir between,” so that my 
call to spend the evening was a real treat to 
the over-tasked and over-worried young mother. 

Mrs. Gatschlachengen was seated between a 
table and a large clothes-basket. In the basket 
were sundry heaps of children’s clothing that 
needed mending or repairing of some kind. On 
the table were high piles of stockings, and of 
wearing apparel, which she, that day, had passed 
through the operation of patching, mending, 
darning, or button and string or strap re- 
placing; to patch, mend, darn and fix up, to 
fix up, darn, mend and patch, and otherwise 
repair or alter children’s more than half worn 
out garments, seemed to be the constant occu- 
pation of her hands. 


CHAPTEE XII. 

A SAD DEPARTURE FROM SILVERYVILLE. 

A few weeks passed away after my last visit 
to Minnie ; then her mother suddenly sickened 
and died. She was buried with much less mag- 
nificence than had been her husband. 

Not many weeks passed over the sorrowing 
heart of the mourning Minnie, before her grief 
for the loss of one who had ever been to her an 
affectionate and beloved mother, was increased 
almost to despair, by being informed that she 
died deeply in debt to one of the village store- 
keepers. As she and Merton were destitute of 
the means of paying that debt, the house in 
which she was living had to be sacrificed under 
the sheriff’s hammer. Where then could she 
seek shelter for herself and children ? 

In the beginning of the following Spring, Min- 
nie was obliged to leave the home that had till 
then sheltered her and her children. Merton’s 
engagement as bar-tender, at the same time, 
came to a close. There then appeared no open- 
s' 


94 


We Four Yillagers. 


ing for him in Silveryville, and he therefore re- 
solved to try his fortune in Philadelphia. I did 
all I could to persuade him not to go to that 
overcrowded place, and recommended to him 
the open, free, pure air of the far West, Avhere, 
in a few years, his children would be sure of 
obtaining employment and independence. But 
my persuasions were all unheeded. He pre- 
ferred trying life in Philadelphia. Alas, for 
him ! How many make the same sadly unfor- 
tunate mistake ! 

One day, when they were all ready to begin 
their journey towards the city, wdth their few 
worldly goods and their children all stowed to- 
gether, in a large, covered farm wagon, Minnie 
came in to bid me a hurried farewell. 

While we were standing, and saying our last 
parting words, I observed that she several times 
put her hand over her pocket, as if there was 
something in it which she feared she might 
lose. Feeling a curiosity to know what it was, 
and wishing, at the same time, to cheer her 
with a jest, I said, laughingly, — 

Minnie, have you hidden one of your babies 
in your pocket for safe keeping ?” 

^^0, no,” she answered, in a low whisper, 
and with a vain attempt to raise a smile — a 


AYe Four Yillagers. 


95 


smile that would not come — and if it had come, 
it would have been speedily washed away in 
tears,; for her tears would flow, in spite of her 
many vain efforts to check them. 

Not one of my babies, they are all too large 
to be carried in a pocket; but I have here a 
bundle cf things that I do not want Merton to 
see; because, if he does, he will sell them. 
They are the last of our silver spoons, and the 
jewelry that was given to me by Mr. Gatschla- 
chengen. They are all very dear to me, and I 
am resolved that they shall not be bartered off 
for bad liquor ; nothing but the want of bread 
or medicine will ever make me willing to part 
wdth them.’^ 

She then turned to give me her last parting 
kiss ; and as I held her hand, very sorrowfully, 
clasped in one of my OAvn, I said — 

Write to me, Minnie, I will feel anxious to 
hear from you.’’ 

Write ! now, Dolly, how do you suppose I 
can ever find time to write, with so many chil- 
dren to take care of, and no one to help me ? 
Do not expect it of me, dear Dolly.” 

It would not require much time to write a 
few lines in a hurry. I would excuse all mis- 
takes.” 


96 


We Four Yillagers. 


No; no, Dolly, I will not write until I have 
some one to help me, nor until I will be able to 
live in a house to which I would not be ashamed 
to invite you to pay me a visit ; now, adieu.” 

In the next instant she joined her husband 
and children. 


CHAPTEK XIII. 

A MOVING — A VISIT TO rHILADELPIIIA. 

They went slowly down the road, and I stood 
a long time looking after them, with many sad 
feelings, and frequently asking myself the ques- 
tion, whether or not I would ever see them 
again. A moving of a family is to me always a 
melancholy and uncomfortable sight. It tells 
of the instability and variableness of all things 
earthly. There they went — the furniture, the 
cooldng utensils, and the human treasures of 
that unsettled man and his wife — all heaped 
and packed up together in equalizing confusion ; 
broom and sweeping-brush handles speared up 
above the crowded and motley collection, as if 
they intended to do all they could to ward off 
whatever ills or misfortunes might by chance 


We Four Villagers. 


97 


threaten to injure or molest their companions. 
Below the body of the wagon^ were dangling 
Yario.us buckets and iron pots. Truly^ there is 
no sign of comfort, or beam of pleasure, ra- 
diating from the view of a family moving. As 
I stood and gazed after that of Minnie and Mer- 
ton Malvers, as it slowly proceeded down the 
road, I mentally thanked the good Providence 
that had, all my life through, protected me from 
the necessity of ever moving. 

As I stood and gazed, with tear-dimmed eyes, 
I asked myself — 

Will I ever see Minnie again ?’^ 

My heart, and the echo of its warmest wishes, 
responded faintly, and with fearing despondence, 
the single word — 

Again ?” 

Whether the answer was an affirmative or a 
negative, was known only to the future; and 
that impenetrable, thickly veiled future would 
not reveal any other more satisfactory answer. 

Days, weeks and months passed away, and I 
received no tidings of my unfortunate friends. 

When they had been gone about three months, 
I wrote to Minnie, and told her that if she had 
not time to write to me, she should request 
Merton to inform me by letter how they were. 


98 


We Foue Yillagees. 


I waited a whole month, hut no answer came. 
I then wrote to Merton, and earnestly requested 
him to tell me how they were doing. My letter 
to him also remained unanswered. 

Time grew into passing months and years ; 
time still rolled onward, and as it passed away, 
w^e heard nothing either from or about Minnie 
and Merton. 

Meanwhile, one of my married sisters moved 
to Philadelphia. On the eve of her departure 
to the city, I earnestly requested her to make 
an effort to find out the fate and residence of 
Minnie Malvers. 

She promised she would. When she wrote 
to me she stated that she could not dis- 
cover any traces of our lost friends. By this 
time I began to hope they had left the city, 
and, perhaps, gone somewhere in the country. 
Gradually, I ceased to hope or expect ever to 
hear from them again. Another year passed 
away, and I had come to the firm belief that I 
would never see or hear from them. 

The fall of the year w^as approaching; the 
arrangements and engagements, preparatory for 
the comfort and pleasures of the winter season, 
were entered into with the alacrity and hope- 
fulness that are so fully indulged in at this busy 


We Foue Yillagees. 


99 


season, by all the inhabitants of Pennsylvania 
in general, and of Silveryville in particular. 

My sister, Mrs. Janes, sent me a kind invita- 
tion to pass the approaching vacation, during 
the Christmas holidays, at her house in Phila- 
delphia. I had never visited the city, and I 
did not wish ever to enter it. I dreaded the 
noise and confusion, the hubbub and hurry of 
its thronged streets — its bakers’ bread, its bar- 
tered, bruised vegetables — and worst of all, its 
impure and unclean river water as a beverage, 
and, as necessarily, a component part of all its 
edibles. No, no; I did not wish to visit the 
dreaded, dirty city. 

But I did wish very much to see the faces of 
my sister and her two children. She told me, 
in her letter of invitation, that if I did not pay 
her this strongly-desired visit, she 'would never 
again bring her children to Silveryville. So 
that, finally, the wish to see them vanquished 
my fears of the polluted Babel of a place, and I 
consented to make, for two weeks, an addition 
to its over-populated throng of a population. 
On the first day of my vacation, with trunk, 
bandbox, basket and bundle,” I embarked on 
board the railroad car for my first visit to 
Philadelphia. Long before I had time to get 


100 


We Foue Yillagees. 


used to my seat, to the rattle and rumble of 
the car-wheels, or to the piercing shrieks of the 
ferocious, fierce iron horse that was dragging us 
with such wonderful velocity through villages, 
hills, dales, farms and bridges, over streams and 
under groves, we entered the suburbs of the 
city, and exchanged our iron fire-horse for ani- 
mals of a more steady and tractable nature. 

Why, is it possible,” I mentally exclaimed, 
that I have all my life lived so near the city 
and never known it ? I always believed it w^as 
a long way off ; and here I am in it before I 
have had time to look around me.” 

I was met at the depot by my brother-in-law 
and his children. Then safely escaped from 
the crowds of porters and cabmen of all sorts, 
sizes, colors and conditions, we were con- 
veyed by a hired carriage to my sister s home. 
My brother-in-law, at that time, had not begun 
to ride in his own city equipage. 

The remainder of that day I spent in rest, 
and in sitting at the front parlor window, looking 
at the amazing multitude of persons, and at the 
immense numbers and diversities of wheeled ve- 
hicles, which were constantly streaming through 
the streets — sister Ann lived in a corner house — 
passing that wonderful window in her front parlor. 


We Four Yillagers. 


101 


Over and over again I asked my city rela- 
tives the question — 

Where are — where can all these people be 
going T 

They only laughed at my question^ and re- 
fused to give it any satisfactory answer. There 
I sat; and watched; and wondered; and gazed at 
theni; without ever being able to find out ivliere 
they %vere going; or why they w^ere all in such 
an incomprehensible hurry. They were driv- 
ing, racing; and getting ahead of each other; 
as if a valuable premium were awaiting the 
arrival of the first one who should reach the 
goal to which they were proceeding ; but where 
that goal could be, or what the nature of the 
prize after which they were all hurrying, my 
native village wit, or my city ignorance, would 
not communicate to my wondering and be- 
wildered mind. 

The next day my sister, Mrs. Ann Janes, 
decreed that we must, together, go on a shopping 
expedition. To this law, of course, I was not 
in the least opposed. On the contrary, I was 
as much elated in the anticipation of the treat 
of a city shopping excursion, as any child could 
be in the expectation of paying a visit to a toy 
shop. 


9 


102 


We Four Yillagers. 


I did not like the city — its houses, its hoars, 
its habits, its water or its people — but I had 
fully made up my mind that I would like its 
shops and their contents. 

As soon after breakfast as we could, we sallied 
forth and joined the busy and hurried throngs, 
which, to my amazement, were already pass- 
ing through the streets, as fully bent upon 
going somewhere, as they had been on the pre- 
vious day. Where they were going, I could not 
discover; but where we were going, I knew 
very well. We were going, as fast as our feet 
could, and our many crowding fellow walkers 
would allow them to carry us, to Chestnut street. 

The first establishment we entered was a 
furrier’s; and in it my sister presented me a 
handsome set of new furs. She said they were 
my Christmas gift. As the weather was ex- 
cessively cold, they were proportionately ac- 
ceptable. I had never before worn furs, and 
was now very thankful for them, and fancied, 
that with them on me, I could never suffer 
with cold. 

After that, we went to a children’s furnishing 
emporium, as the sign called it, and there we 
had to wait some time before we could be at- 
tended to. 


We Four Villagers. lOS 

Crowds^ crowds, crowds ! It seemed to me 
that there was nothing but a crowd everywhere. 
I felt that it was impossible to examine the 
goods on the counters, on account of the crowds 
of spectators in front of tliem. I soon noticed 
that there were more spectators than there were 
purchasers in that immense concourse. The at- 
tendants were all busy, but as calm, and com- 
posed, and unflurried, as if they were sitting, 
each one alone, in her own private apartment. 
How they managed to keep themselves so, sur- 
rounded as they were by such an assembly, I 
could not comprehend. Then, another fact sur- 
prised me very much ; they were all handsome 
and all young. I wondered exceedingly how 
that emporium” could obtain so many fine 
looking young maidens to take their places be- 
hind its counters. After we, or rather, after 
sister Ann, was through with her business at 
that establishment, we visited several dry-goods 
and trimmings stores ; in some of them my sister 
made a few small purchases. She then led the 
way to a large dry-goods store on Ninth street ; 
we there found quite as large a crowd of specta- 
tors and purchasers, as there were in the other 
stores on Chestnut street. While we were 
standing over the heater, to warm our feet, and 


104 


We Four Yillagers. 


■wait our turn to be attended tO; my sister sur- 
prised me veiy much by informing me that I 
must, in this store, choose for myself the ma- 
terials to make me a new cloak and dress. 

I answered her that I was not in need of such 
articles ; that the ones I already had were quite 
good enough. To which she answered — 

0, yes ! they are good enough to wear in 
Silveryyille, but not quite new enough to visit 
among Mr. Janes’ friends, here in the city ; at 
least they are not sufficiently fashionable, and 
you must have new ones ; say no more about it, 
but tell me at once the colors you prefer.” 

As I well knew her firmness, I saw there was 
no use in trying to disobey her orders, and 
therefore, I stated the colors I liked best. But 
though she could, and did control my actions, 
and compel me to accept from her a new cloak 
and dress that I did not want, she could not, 
nor did not curb my thoughts on the subject; 
while we stood there waiting to be waited on 
by the busy attendants, my ideas ran on in- 
tently in the following strain : — 

^Mf I had known she was intending to treat me 
in this manner, I would not have come out with 
her. This cloak was ncAV the winter before last, 
and I am sure it as good now as it was the day 


We Foue Yillagees. 


105 


it was made ; for I have not worn it a dozen 
times. And my dresses — my two silk dresses, 
both^rich and fresh — although I have had one 
four years and the other six, they are as free 
from specks, spots, rents and wrinkles as they 
were when they were finished. It is true that 
four and six years are long periods ; but what 
of that, when they have been hut seldom worn, 
and as carefully used as I always use my things ? 
As to their being unfiishionable, what do I care if 
they are ? And much less do I care about try- 
ing to please Mr. Janes’ city friends ; as if they 
are going to notice what I wear !” 

But all these thoughts were unknown to my 
sister Ann, and would have been equally un- 
heeded, as they were, if she had known them. 

After much long w\aiting, and still much 
longer debating, comparing and examining a 
vast multitude of pieces of silk and cloth, a 
dress and cloak for me were finally cut and paid 
for. By this time I began to be weary and 
foot-sore, on account of so much standing and 
walking. I began to hope that Mrs. Janes 
would be willing to turn towards her home ; for 
my part, I was already completely cured of my 
love of a city shopping expedition. But my 
sister, on the contrary, seemed as if she enjoyed 
9 ^ 


106 


We Fouk Yillageks. 


the wearying pleasures of it, as much as she did 
when they first commenced. 

^^Now/’ said she^ we must go to Second 
street and buy some trimmings.” 

In my blissful ignorance of the names of the 
streets, and of the distances between them, I 
proceeded with her to Second street; and by 
the time we reached the particular store at 
which she resolved the trimmings must be 
bought, I was exceedingly fatigaied, for I was 
unused to so much walking. 

My feet ached, and felt as if they were being 
baked in a furnace. My sister fixed her fancy 
upon a certain cloak trimming, the supply of 
which happened to be nearly out. The store- 
keeper told her that late in the afternoon there 
would be a fresh supply received from the fac- 
tory, and that he would send it to her. 

^^No,” said she, would rather come after 
it either this afternoon or to-morrow.” 

At last, to my comfort, we turned our faces 
homewards. As we walked along I said — 

0, my feet ! my feet ! what can ail my 
feet? They feel as if they must be blistered.” 

By the time we reached home, my feet were 
really blistered, and it was impossible to walk 
the streets any more that day. 


We Fouk Villagers. 


107 


As Mr. Janes and the children were not ex- 
pected home to dinner, sister and I ate onrs 
soon ^after our return. When we had dismissed our 
well-relished meal, she sat over the heater, read- 
ing, and I reclined on the sofa, nursing my feet. 

At half-past three o’clock she went to the 
kitchen ; in a few minutes she returned to the 
sitting-room, with a heavy cloud upon her brow. 

What is the matter ?” I asked, in alarm. 

Why, that stubborn Lucy is not yet done 
ironing, and she will not attend the door-bell 
while she is ironing; she never will. And I 
would like so much to go after that trimming, 
and also after the dress-maker ; if I only send 
after her, she will not come to-morrow, I know. 
What shall I do ?" 

Let me attend your door-bell.” 

Would you ? 0, dear, Dolly ! if you will, I 

shall be so much obliged to you. But jom 
blistered feet — do they not hurt you too much ?” 

0, no ; not with these soft cloth slippers you 
have lent me. Wi^h them on my feet, I can 
very easily attend the door-bell, and allow Lucy 
to finish her ironing in peace.” 

In five minutes, sister Ann w\as gone. Lucy 
in the kitchen, and I in the sitting-room, were 
the sole inhabitants of the house. 


108 


We Four Villagers. 


The handsome marble timepiece ticked, ticked, 
ticked, quite musically, and I enjoyed my re- 
pose luxuriously. 


CIIAPTEE XIV. 

ATTENDING THE FRONT DOOR-BELL. 

"When I entered voluntarily on my new office, 
I little thought of the effects that were in its 
train. I wondered, to myself, why it was that 
Philadelphians kept their doors locked and 
barred, as if they were afraid of their neigh- 
bors. As I was thus musing and thinking to 
myself upon the differences of city and country 
life, the door-bell gave a long, loud peal, that 
made me jump and hurry to the door as fast as 
I could, expecting to see there some of Mr. 
Janes’ fashionable friends; but I saw before 
me a coarse looking man, with two large tur- 
keys on his shoulder. He was very cold, and 
said — 

Does Mr. Kilpatrick live here ?” 

No, he does not.” 

Please to tell me where he lives ?” 


We' Four Yillagers. 


109 


I do not know. But wait a minute^ I will 
inquire.’’ 

I ^yent to tlie kitchen door and asked Lucy 
if she knew. She said — 

Noj I don’t; hut I do know of several live 
Patricks, whom I wish were killed-Patricks ; for 
they are the greatest nuisances in the street.” 

I was obliged to tell the shivering bearer of 
the two fat, festival turkej^s, that I could not 
discover where he could find the residence of 
Mr. Kilpatrick, the owner of the said turkeys. 

I wished to ask the poor fellow in, to warm 
himself, but was fearful that he might leave 
^^lis mark” in grease; in which case, a cloud 
might rest upon sister’s brow, more than — who 
knows how long ? and what the effect might be 
from Lucy’s tongue, I did not dare to think of; 
therefore, the man was dismissed without any 
such kindness being offered. 

In five minutes more, there was another ring 
at the front door-bell. When I opened the 
door, I saw before it a woman, with her hands 
and arms filled to overflowing with all kinds of 
brushes. She asked me to buy a brush. I 
never bought a brush in my life. I always get 
my brushes in exchange for butter and eggs, at 
the store in Silveryville. 


110 


We Four Yillag'Ers. 


0; no, I do not,” said I, want to buy a 
brush. Will you not walk in and warm yourself?” 

^^0, no, thank you, I have not time to stop.” 

Then, after a pause of about ten minutes, there 
was another ring. When I answered it, a neatly 
dressed young lady handed me a religious tract, 
and she passed to the next house. 

I did not ask her to walk in and warm her- 
self; she looked so lovely and so pleasant, that I 
could not fancy she might or could be ccld. 
I had scarcely seated myself on the sofa and be- 
gun to read the tract, when the bell announced 
the necessity of my going once more to the front 
door. This time, there stood before it a well at- 
tired, comfortable looking old gentleman, who 
asked me, very politely, if Mr. Till was at home. 

Mr. Till does not live here.” 

Can you tell me which one of these houses 
he lives in.” 

“ No, I do not know where he lives.” 

I resolved not to ask Lucy any more ques- 
tions, because I did not like to hear her say 
she wished living people were killed. 

Next, there came a ruddy looking, tall old 
man, decently though plainly clothed. He had 
a small basket on his arm, in it wei'e lying a 
few books which he offered for sale. 


We Four Yillagers. 


Ill 


Among them I espied a New England primer, 
in which it is rehearsed that, 

In Adam’s fall 
We sinned all. 

And, 

Xerxes did die 
And so must I. 

Many long years had passed away since I 
had seen a copy of that time-honored old 
primer, with its quaint pictures and roughly set 
type. The sight of it carried my thoughts 
irresistibly to the days of yore, and to many 
by-gone scenes and circumstances. 

The old man carried away with him one book 
less than he brought to the door; for, who 
could resist purchasing a book that was written 
in the days before the devolution of this 
country, and one that was printed in the year 
one thousand seven hundred and seventy-seven. 

Next there came two expensively dressed 
ladies, bedecked wdth flounces, flowers and 
feathers. They inquired if Mrs. Janes w^as in. 
MJien answered in the negative, they handed 
me their cards, wdiich they took from beautiful 
silver cases. 

After that I had a ten minutes rest, and was 
busy reading my new tract, when I was once 


112 


We Four Yillagers. 


more disturbed by the door-bell. When I 
opened it, I saw before me a tall, delicate look- 
ing man, who was totally blind — a blind man 
walking alone in the streets of the city ! 
Poor fellow ! he could not walk fast enough to 
keep himself warm, and looked as if he was half 
frozen. In his hand he carried a large, black 
satchel. Before he had time to make known his 
business, I asked him to walk in and warm him- 
self; then, gently putting my hand on his arm, 
I conducted him to a seat over the heater. He 
appeared really grateful for having an opportunity 
of warming himself. As soon as he was com- 
fortably seated, he stated his business, which 
was to’ sell religious books. 

^^Does your living depend upon your busi- 
ness ?” 

^W^es, madam ; also that of my wife and young 
child." 

Then," said I, do you not think you would 
do better if you would sell other books besides 
religious ones?" 

^‘Yes, maam, I know I wmuld; but in selling 
them, I would not be working to advance the 
cause of my Divine Master’s kingdom upon 
earth ; therefore, I would rather live on less of 
this world’s goods, and have the satisfaction of 


We Four Yillagers. 


113 


knowing, that in a feeble way, I am serving my 
precious Saviour.” 

Ah, what a reproach were his words — so 
humbly, so meekly said — to those sight-gifted 
hundreds and thousands of people who care for 
none of these things ! 

Very soon he took his departure, and went on 
his groping, winding way through the thronged 
thoroughfares of the crowded city. 

A good angel certainly must be ever at hand 
to guard and guide him in safety among the nu- 
Inerous dangers and perils which beset his way 
on all sides. 

The next pull at our bell-handle, was made 
by two ragged urchins, who had large bundles 
of shingle shavings for sale. They were as 
merry looking and as light-promising as were 
the bulky burdens they bore. 

After their departure, I had another fine, 
long rest of ten minutes, and I was again begin- 
ning to be interested in my new tract, when 
there was another pull given the bell-handle. 

Upon opening the door, I saw standing before 
it a decently clothed young woman, holding in 
her arms a handsome child, aged about six 
months. It was clean, and neatly attired in a 
warm, blue merino cloak, with a very pretty 
10 


114 


■\Ye Four Yillagers. 


embroidered silk hood on its chubby little head. 
This well dressed and interesting looking young 
woman suprised me very much^ by asking if I 
would be so good as to aid her by the gift of money 
or of old clothes. As it was too cold to stand at 
the door to hear all she had to say, I invited her to 
walk in and warm herself, while she was making 
known her circumstances. She said she had 
two other children, besides the infant in her 
arms ; their ages Avere three and six years; that 
two weeks ago her husband had deserted her, 
and left her entirely unprovided with the means 
of living ; that a kind lady up the street had 
just given her the cloak and hood her babe Avas 
w^earing. She then took from under her arm 
an old, thin, AA^hite muslin bonnet, which she 
said the child had Avorn Avhen she left home. 
That the same lady had also given her a dime 
toAA^ards the payment of her Aveek’s rent. She 
then requested me, very humbly, to try to do 
something for her relief. I gave her what I 
could, Avrote doAvn her name and residence, then 
promised I Avould try to bring her some chil- 
dren’s clothing in a feAv days. She soon after- 
Avards left me, seeming Avell pleased Avith my 
promise to visit her. 

The next ring Avas given by a dull looking 


We Fouk Yillagees. 


115 


lad, AAith a new coat from the tailor s for Mr. 
Janes. By the time it was received and safely 
put aWay, Mr. Janes and the children came 
home, Lucy had finished her ironing, and I was 
released from my attendance on the ringing of 
the front door-bell. 

The next three days we had a very busy 
time of it, making my new dress, cloak, and 
some beautiful garments for the children. On 
the evening of the fourth day, we all attended 
a children’s party at the house of one of Mrs. 
Janes’ intimate friends. 

The next morning, when sister Ann and I 
were by ourselves, I told her of the promise I 
had made to visit the interesting, young, de- 
serted wife. She said she felt very sorry for 
the poor woman, and proved the truth of her 
words, by hunting up for me quite a large bun- 
dle of children’s and female wearing apparel, 
which she said I was welcome to for her relief, 
provided I did not think it would be too much 
trouble to carry so large a burden. She was 
sorry she could not accompany me, but, owing to 
home engagements, she could not go out that 
day. 

I started off alone, to find Mrs. Mary Stockk, 
No. 554 Pearl street. It was a long way from 


116 


We Four Yillagers. 


sister Ann’s house; and by the time I reached 
the place; I was weary of both my walk and 
burden. At that time; the houses in that street 
were unadorned by bell-pulls or front door- 
knockers. The night before there had fallen a 
deep SHOW; which; in many parts of my long 
walk; warded my feet from the hardness of 
the brick pavementS; so that they were saved 
from being blistered. But they were as cold as 
ice. Having the large bundle to carry; I could 
not wrap my cloak tightly around mC; and I 
suffered exceedingly with the cold; in spite of 
the neW; warm furs I was wearing. I was very 
glad wheU; at last; I arrived at the house num- 
bered 554; as I hoped that in it I could obtain a 
good warming. But when I knocked at the 
door; and it was opened; a short and single 
glance within it put to flight; very quickly; all 
my hopes of a warming and a rest. The room 
into which the door opened was entirely empty ; 
not a single article of furniture; of any kind; 
in it. The door was opened by a half famished; 
slovenly dressed; rough haired; soiled faced; 
slip-shod; Irish woman. She occupied one of 
the upper rooms of the house. The lower room 
was untenanted; and its former occupierS; Mary 
Stockk and her three little Stockks; had moved 


We Tour Villagers. 117 

a^YayJ to some place unknown by the woman of 
the upper part of the house. 

Can you not,” I inquired, think of some 
person in the neighborhood who may be likely 
to know where I will be able to find her?” 

No ; I don’t know any of the neighbors.” 

At this time, another woman came from the 
next door, with a bucket in her hand, on her 
way to the public hydrant ; she was quite as un- 
prepossessing in her appearance; but seeing that 
I was inquiring after some one, she asked <ne 
whom I was seeking. 

Mary Stockk,” I answered. 

She pointed to a house on the opposite side 
of the street, and said : — 

There is a woman living in that house who 
knows Mary Stockk very w^ell, and may be she 
can tell you where she has moved to.” 

I went to the house designated, and inquired 
for Mrs. Mary Stockk; but was informed that 
no one knew where she had moved to, as she 
had taken her departure very early one morn- 
ing, while other people were asleep. 

By this time, there were several bare headed, 
slip-shod, untidy women collected around me, 
and they all agreed in saying that Mary Stockk 
10 '‘ 


118 


We FoUE YiLL AGEES., 


did not tell any person in the neighborhood 
^vhither she had moved. 

I am very sorry/’ said I ; because I have 
brought this bundle of clothes for her, and I do 
not like to have the trouble of carrying it home 
11 gain.” 

I said this, hoping that some one of the mot- 
ley crowd around me would offer to relieve me 
of my burden, by saying she would accept it. 

I felt afraid of offending their feelings, by 
offering to give it to any of them. One of the 
women then said — 

A few doors down the street there is a poor, 
sick woman, who has a house full of young chil- 
dren, whose husband also is very sick; if you don’t 
want the trouble of carrying your bundle home, 
you had better give it to her ; for she is a much 
better and nicer woman than Mary Stockk is.” 

I eagerly desired the speaker to tell me the 
number of the house, and, Avithout Avaiting to 
ask the name of the sick Avoman, I started off 
to seek her, and, at the same time, to try to 
find the sight of a fire, for I Avas almost frozen. 
ArrAed at the house. No. 532, 1 asked to see 
the sick AAmman, Avho had a sick husband and a 
house full of young children. I was directed 
to Avalk to the second story front room. 


We Foue Yillagees. 


119 


When I entered the apartment, I found there, 
not the squalor and sufferings of poA^erty which 
I expected to meet, but, on the contrary, there 
Avere visible on all sides, apparent marks of 
comfort and ease. There Avas a very pretty, 
bright neAV carpet on the floor, the bed AA^as 
decked Avith neAv, gaily tinted chintz coA^ers and 
curtains, snoAvy Avhite sheets and pilloAA^'Cases. 
The Avhole appearance of the place AA^as decidedly 
cheerful and cosy. There AA^as a gloAving fire in 
a clean, AA^ell polished stoA^e, and near it I saAv 
seated a very nicely bed-room dressed, middle 
aged Avoman of lady-like appearance ; but she 
AA\as exceedingly pale and emaciated; her eyes 
Avere very holloAv, still, they AA^ere bright and 
beautiful. On her lap she held a ten days old 
bud of humanity, AAdiich Avas neatly dressed in a 
fine, Avhite muslin frock and embroidered flannel 
shnAArl. OA^er the stove there Avas standing a 
kind and friendly looking matron, engaged in 
stirring a saucepan full of very nice looking 
gruel, studded Avith fine, large rais ns. Seeing 
all these marks of comfort, I felt it Avas hard to 
believe that I Avas in the abode of poverty, and 
I began to fear I should give great offence by 
offering to give the sick AVoman my bundle of 
cast-off garments. But one thing I Avas deter- 


120 


'We Four Yillagers. 


mined to secure, and that Avas a good warm- 
ing for my half frozen hands and feet, by that 
solacing, hot stove. For that purpose 1 took a 
seat near it, and placed my bundle on the floor, 
beside my chair. Then I looked around me 
more leisurely, and was not long in making 
the discovery that although the room and the 
mistress of it — the sick woman and her young in- 
fant — were most comfortably provided for, there 
were still visible, unmistakable signs of pov- 
erty betrayed in the apparel of three or four 
little children, who were standing near their 
mother; though they were clean, they were 
dressed in garments that were most lamentably 
unseasonable and forlornly outgrown. 

Still, I felt it to be a difficult matter to in- 
troduce the object of my visit, without wound- 
ing the feelings of the delicate looking invalid. 
At last I concluded to attempt it, somehow, by 
making the acquaintance of one of the chil- 
dren; for this purpose, I addressed one of the 
little boys, and said — 

Tell me your name, little boy.’' 

He answered very quickly, and in a manner 
which seemed to intimate that he was proud 
of his name — 

Merton Malvers.” 


We Four Villagers. 


121 


^•Merton Malvers !” I exclaimed. I 

once had a relative by that name ; come, now, 
tell me how you came to have his name given- 
you i; 

His mother then spoke, and said — 

Merton Malvers is his father’s name.” 
Merton Malvers his father ! and are you his 
mother? Are you Minnie Malvers? 0, Min- 
nie ! are you really Minnie Malvers ?” 


CHAPTEE XV. 

Minnie’s new trials and employment. 

It was even so. Providence had, in a pecu- 
liar and mysterious way, conducted me to the 
presence of my long lost friend Minnie. 

Poor Minnie ! It was very hard to realize 
that I saw her, in that skeleton looking figure 
before me. 

0, Dolly ! dear Dolly ! said Minnie, as soon 
as she could speak ; my eyesight is so much 
impaired by my long sickness, that I did not 
recognize your face, but I thought I knew your 
voice, the moment I heard it ; yet, as I knew 
you never liked the idea of visiting Philadel- 


122 


We Four Villagers. 


phia, I did not believe it could be your voice 
I beard. 0, decar Dolly, I heave seen Inard 
trouble since I parted with you in Silveryville.” 

She then leaned her head on my shoulder, and 
wept very bitterly. At last I concluded I had 
better leave her to repose, with a promise to Ccall 
again very soon. I advised her to lie down and 
try to compose herself to sleep, for I saw that 
she was very weak and entirely unfit to be out 
of bed. 

Explanations and all conversation with her, I 
deferred until my next visit. I then handed 
her the bundle, saying that it contained some 
useful articles for the little folks. I then took 
my departure, grecatly amazed at the sad condi- 
tion in which I found her, at the many comforts 
by which she was surrounded, which so strangely 
contrasted with her children’s clothing, and at 
my strange neglect in having failed to inquire 
after the elder children and their father. 

Two days afterwards I called again to see 
Minnie, and found her looking a little better, and 
her children were already more comfortably 
clothed in garments which she and her nurse had 
altered for them, from the contents of the bundle 
I had given her. Soon after I entered, I in- 
quired after Merton and her other children. 


We Four Yillagers. 


123 


She told me that three of the latter were dead ; 
that Merton was ill of paralysis, and in a very 
feeble state of mind. She was opposed to my 
seeing him, from which I inferred he was a pitia- 
ble looking object. After that, I called on her 
daily during the remainder of my visit in Phila- 
delphia. 

While I was sitting with her, she recounted 
to me some of the many sorrows which she 
had passed through, and in a way and time 
which will hereafter be explained in the follow- 
ing pages ; I had entrusted to my confidence, 
the whole history of Minnie’s troubles, from the 
time she left Silveryville until she was finally 
Xdaced in a state of peace and comfort. This 
history is composed together in the following 
order. 

When Merton Malvers was prepared to move 
to Philadelphia, he wrote to one of his friends 
there, and requested him to find him the cheapest 
house that could be procured in the city, and to 
send him the direction to it. 

Merton had not passed a whole day in Phila- 
delphia since his marriage, and as that was a 
long time ago, he was almost as ignorant of the 
mode of living in the city as I was. When he 
reached his new home that had been selected 


124 


We Fouk Yillagees. 


for him by his friend, he found it was a small 
house, in a narrow lane or court, in one of the 
suburbs of the city, containing three single rooms, 
one above the other, and that its cheapness was 
its only recommendation — it was cheap enough 
— only four dollars a month for the rent of 
the whole house. Small as it was, its nar- 
row limits contained sufficient space to hold 
his household furniture ; but they were rather 
too small, to hold comfortably all the living 
members of his family. 

But Merton, unfortunately, was so incurably 
in love with his bottle comforts, that he little 
heeded the welfare or accommodations of his 
wife and children. His comforts could not be 
supplied without money, and his present supply 
of that useful commodity was very low. 

After he paid his first month’s rent, which had 
to be paid in advance, before he was allowed to 
take possession, he had not more than two dol- 
lars in the world. The day after his arrival in 
town, he started out at an early hour in search 
of a situation. Fortunately before he went, he 
gave Minnie all his money except one shilling. 
He wished to be employed as a clerk, and he 
called on all his city acquaintances, which were 
not very numerous, to inquire if they knew where 


We Four Yillagers. 


125 


he would be likely to find employment. The 
majority of the persons he called on, were not of 
the class who spend their time in being usefully 
employed, so that they did not afford him any 
benefit. The others were too much occupied 
with attention to their own affairs, to find time 
to think of him and his want of the means of 
living. After he had passed the greater part of 
the day, in vainly running about after his ac- 
quaintances, he spent his shilling for a few 
crackers and a large glass of strong whiskey 
punch. Then dispairing of ever finding employ- 
ment through the influence of his acquaintances, 
he resolved to seek it among strangers. 

Alas for him ! 

To seek for employment among strangers in 
Philadelphia, is as hopeless and as scornfully 
treated, as if one went about to make a living by 
pilfering and stealing. No one of the many rich 
merchants and store-keepers, to whom he applied 
in the course of the afternoon, would even look 
at him after they were aware of his object in 
calling on them — to obtain employment. They 
wmuld not have done it, even if his breath had 
been untainted by the odor of the ^^worm of 
the still,” but thus tainted as it was, they turned 
from him as fiercely as they would have done if 
11 


126 


We Four Villagers. 


lie had thrust toward them the deadly fangs of 
a viper. 

He continued his unsuccessful attempts, un- 
til the stores w^ere all closed ; then turned to- 
wards his new home, feeling very sad, and in 
wretched spirits ; also very faint from fatigue and 
want of proper food. 

Ye rich men, to whom he had that day ap- 
plied for employment, had you known how much 
good a few kind words, and a few moments’ at- 
tention might have done him, would you not 
have given them to him? It is not certain that 
in his particular case your kindness would have 
saved him from the miseries which befell him 
and his suffering family, for he loved indulgence 
in immoderate drinking to such an extent, that 
perhaps all the kindness in the world might not 
have saved him ; but his ruin might at least have 
been postponed for a while, and then you would 
have had the satisfaction of knowing that you 
had tried to save him. But alas, as it was, your 
cold and cruel unkindness to him, actually 
hurried him forward to meet his destruction. 

While w^alking under one of the city lamps, he 
met a former drinking companion from Silvery- 
ville, wdio had come to Philadelphia to indulge 
in a greater spree than the steady habits of the 


We Fouk Yillagees. 


127 


quiet village would allow him to partake of there. 
As soon as he saw him he said^ 

Why^ Merton, my hoy, is that you ? I was 
this minute wondering where I could find you, 
and here I catch you coming to meet me.” 

I am right glad to see you,” said Merton. 

So, Merton, you have come to town to live, 
have you? And what do you expect to do 
next, old fellow ?” 

To judge from to-day’s experience, I am 
going to starve. I have had neither dinner nor 
supper this day, and am without one cent of 
cash.” 

What ! here only one day, and hungry al- 
ready? Serves you right, for not staying at 
home in the village, where no one ever starves. 
Philadelphia is a very fine place to visit when 
you happen to have plenty of money ; but you’ll 
never catch me coming here to live. But you 
must have something to eat, Merton, and then 
we will take the world easy \ have a drink once 
more together, ^ to drive dull care away’ this 
night, no matter what may turn up to-morrow.” 

The two men then went into a restaurant, 
where they indulged very freely in fried oysters 
and strong liquor. They sat and drank and 
talked over old times until a very late hour in 


128 


We Fouk Till AGEES. 


the night; and then separated. The stranger 
sought a lodging at a neighboring hotel, and 
Merton, staggering onward, tried to find his new 
home ; but on account of his mental faculties 
being in a peculiar and much abused state, he 
roved about ignorantly until after two o’clock in 
the morning; then, overcome with hxtigue and 
inebriation, he sank into insensibility, and, at the 
same time, measured his length on a friendly 
cellar-door. In that condition and location he 
w^as found by the night police, who conveyed 
him to the station house. The next morning!!*, 
at about ten o’clock, he was aroused from his 
stupor, by being conducted into the presence of 
his honor, the Mayor. As he was unable or 
unwilling to tell his name, or otherwise give a 
satisfactory account of himself, and being un- 
able to pay the fine imposed for being intoxi- 
cated, he w’as sent below for thirty days. 
During the first and second days of his absence, 
Minnie, with the help of her two oldest boys, 
Harry and Charlie, busied herself in taking 
proper care of her children, and in cleaning and 
fixing up her narrow dwelling place. During 
these two days she was kept so constantly 
occupied, that she had not much time to spend 
in thinking of Merton’s prolonged absence. She 


We Foue Yillagees. 


129 


w«as so much accustomed to his being out of 
sight, that she hardly missed him. But when 
her house cleaning and furniture fixing w^ere 
all completed, she had time to reflect upon 
her situation, and became sadly perplexed and 
worried, not only on account of Merton’s ab- 
sence, but also about the question of how she 
should manage to obtain the means of living. 
The small sum Merton gave her when he left 
home Avas nearly all gone. How Avas her next 
supply of money to be procured ? Hoav Avas 
her next month’s rent to be earned ? 

She despaired receding from Merton the 
aid he ought to give her. In ansAver to all these 
important and puzzling questions, her first 
thought Avas of her needle. The needle ! that 
implement of poor Avoman’s stern necessity ; the 
point on Avhich so many loaves of bread are 
earned ; the instrument Avith Avhich so many 
untimely graves are dug. 

But Minnie AAvas among strangers. Would 
they employ her ? She did not know ; but she 
did knoAV that she must try to earn bread for 
her children in some w^ay. She AA^ent among 
her immediate neighbors in the court, and 
asked them if they could furnish her Avith some 
needle Avork, or direct her to some place Avhere 
11 * 


130 


We Four Yillagers. 


she might procure some. But poor Minnie ! 
The cheapness of her dwelling place had drawn 
her down to a latitude quite beneath the sphere 
of even the poor needle women of the city. She 
was on a lower grade than the one in which 
they moved, with all their poverty. Not one 
of her neighbors knew anything about needle 
work. One among them, named Sallie E. Bridd, 
who had a kinder heart than the others, and 
seemed to feel for her, told her that if she was 
in want of employment, she could tell her of a 
very good place where she could get a day’s 
work regularly every week at washing, and 
another at ironing, for which she would be paid 
seventy-five cents per day, and generally receive 
some little present. 

The idea of going into a stranger’s kitchen, 
and washing and ironing for that stranger’s 
wages, was agonizing to Minnie’s feelings. But 
what could she do ? Necessity and her hungry 
children compelled her to drag herself to the 
disagreeable duty cf washing and ironing for 
their daily bread. 

Those strangers were kind to her, and so 
well pleased with her work, that they recom- 
mended her to some of their friends, who also 
gave her two days employment every week. 


We FoUK YiLL AGEES. 


131 


While she ^vas away from hoDiej the house 
and younger children were left to the care and 
management of Harry and Charlie. The three 
dollars she earned kept them from utter desti- 
tution. At the expiration of thirty days, Mer- 
ton was released from prison, and returned 
home to his wife. He did not tell her wdiere he 
had spent those thirty days, hut merely said he 
had been seeking employment without success. 
He changed his clothes, ate his dinner in silence, 
and then left the house, without ever inquiring 
or seeming to care how she had managed to' 
keep herself and little ones from starvation, or 
how she had contrived to pay the next month’s 
rent, which must he paid, or they would not he 
allowed to remain in the house. He seemed to 
he destitute of all thought or care of the 
Wyants of his wife and children. The day of his 
return happened to he a Friday, and Minnie 
was at home. As soon as he left the house, 
after eating his dinner, his wife told the chil- 
dren never to inform him that she went out to 
Avash and iron until she Avould give them leave. 
She was afraid if he knew, he would forhid it. 

Merton’s ideas were so far from being spent 
on the welfare of his family, that they were all 
running Avild on a very different question — a 


132 


We FoUE YiLL AGEES. 


question that absorbed every wish and desire of 
his heart. This question^ so thrillingly important 
and interesting to hinij was how he should 
manage to procure the means of obtaining a drink 
of liquor. His long abstinence in the prison had 
made him feel almost famished for the want of 
a drink more stimulating, than the cup of coffee 
he had taken as a part of his dinner. So in- 
tently was his mind fixed on this absorbing 
question, that he had not one idea to spare for 
anything else under the sun. 


CHAPTER XYI. 

CHARLIE AND HARRY. 

When Merton left his home, it was with the 
firm determination of procuring a drink of 
liquor. He would have offered to sell some 
article of wearing apparel if he had known 
wdiere to go for that purpose. Happily, he 
was yet too ignorant of life in the city to know 
where to find such a place. It was about half- 
past one o’clock when he left his home. He 
despaired obtaining employment among the nier- 


We Four Villagers. 133 

chants and store-keepers. lie feared to go to a 
hotel or restaurant, thinking he might there 
meet ,some of his acquaintances ; and them he 
now felt he must for ever shun, on account of 
his late imprisonment. He believed they knew 
it, and would taunt him about it. All their 
haunts he resolved must be avoided in future. 

He was greatly at a loss what to do. As he 
walked along, he came to a place where there 
w^ere being erected a row of new houses. In 
front of the place there Avere large beds of 
mortar, and many piles of bricks. All that 
mortar and all those bricks he knew had to be 
carried to the building Avails. He stopped short 
in his course before them, and said — 

^•Noaa", if I had a hod, I Avould eA^en turn hod- 
carrier, for the sake of being able to procure a 
drink. Why should I not? Avho knoAVS me here ?” 

Presently, one of the laborers stood near him ; 
as he filled his hod Avith bricks, Merton said to 
him — 

^^Hoav much per day do you earn at that 
Avork ?” 

One dollar.” 

“ It is very hard Avork, is it not?” 

Yes, until you get used to it; after that it 
is as easy as is any other hard work.” 


134 


We FoUK YiLL AGEES. 


I suppose so/^ said Merton ; between now 
and six o’clock you will earn fifty cents.” 

Yes/’ said the man. 

^^Let me do it for you^ while you take an 
afternoon’s rest; and I will be satisfied with 
only twenty-five cents.” 

No/’ said the man ; I cannot afford to sit 
idle and lose one-half of my half day’s Avages. 
My wife is sick, and I need all the money I can 
get this ^veek. But I tell you what I can do ; 
I have a hod at home that I wdll hire to you for 
a shilling a day ; if you W' ant to work at this 
trade, come here to-morrow morning, at six 
o’clock ; I’ll have the hod here for you, and 
speak to the boss about hiring you.” 

So saying, he toiled off wdth his full hod on 
his shoulder. Merton stood and looked after 
him, and said to himself — 

Have I come to this ?” 

Yes, yes,” he answered ; and glad of it, 
too ; all I regret is that I cannot begin at once. 
IIow can I w^ait until to-morrow evening for a 
drink?” 

He then continued his walk through the 
streets, asking himself again and again, how he 
could procure a drink. 

As he passed along, he came to a place where 


We Eour Villagers. 


135 


there was a heap of stone-coal lying on the 
street, while a woman and a child were carrying 
it, in Small quantities, to their cellar. 

lie stopped the woman, and said — 

I will carry that coal in for a shilling.’' 

^^No,” said the woman, ‘^1 cannot afford to 
give a shilling ; I am very poor.” 

^^Well, then,” said Merton, will carry it 
in for a sixpence.” 

^Wery well,” said she, will give you a 
sixpence.” 

That hard earned sixpence was soon turned 
into fire-water, and poured where many hun- 
dred dollars’ worth had preceded it. 

The next morning, at six o’clock, he met his 
new friend, the knight of the hod, and by him 
he was instructed in the art of carrying cities 
on the shoulders.” At the end of the week, he 
bought himself a new hod, and worked with it 
the remainder of the building season. 

That day, when he went home to his dinner, 
he told his wife, in the presence of his children, 
that he had at last succeeded in obtaining em- 
ployment. 

‘^And what at?” said his wife. To judge 
from the appearance of your clothes, one would 
naturally suppose that you had been rolling 


136 


We Four Yillagers. 


about in a brick-yard, instead of being em- 
ployed.” 

But I was einplo^^ed ; and that is the reason 
why my clothes are in their present plight. 
They will be worse before they are better, for 
I have turned hod-carrier.” 

A hod-carrier !” said Minnie. 0, Merton ! 
how could or did you think of such a thing.” 

^AVell, I had to do something, you know.” 

The older children laughed, and wisely 
thought — as children will often do — that hod- 
carrying could not be any worse for him than 
going out washing and ironing was for their 
mother. 

But did the proceeds of the hod-carrying 
labors benefit Minnie or her children ? 

Very little. Now and then he would give 
her a dollar ; but the main support of the table 
and the month’s rent always had to be eked out 
from the hard earned washing and ironing fund. 
The families for whom Minnie worked were 
kind and benevolent people, and often made her 
presents that helped her very materially in the 
support of her children. 

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday 
of every week, .she worked out. On these days 
she would give Merton his dinner in the morn- 


We Four Villagers. 


137 


ing, to take with him ; it was inyariably neatly 
put up in a clean napkin and small basket. As 
she gave it to him she would say — 

You need not come home to dinner to-day, 
because I wdll be too busy to cook.” 

He never asked or cared what she was so 
busy about. On Friday and Saturday she was 
kept very much busie 1 in denning her own 
house, and in keeping their scanty wardrobe in 
the best order she could. 

In this way, she worked and toiled far beyond 
her physical strength, through the Spring and 
beginning of Summer. Merton spent nearly all 
his wages in liquor. Harry and Charlie were 
two fine boys, and a great comfort to their 
mother. Adversity and hard work had made 
them prematurely thoughtful and attentive to 
the wants and wishes of their gentle mother. 

One evening, after they went to bed, the 
other children being asleep, their father out, and 
their mother down stairs sewdng, Harry said to 
his fiivorite brother — 

Charlie, it is too bad that mother has to 
work so hard, when all she earns only keeps us 
from starvation.” 

0, it does more than that !” answered Char- 
12 


138 


We Four Yillagers. 


lie ; it pays our rent, and keeps us from being 
turned out of doors.” 

But I wish/’ said Harry, that she had not 
to work so much ; she never gets any rest. I 
wish we could do something to help her.” 

We do help her, Harry, as much as we can ; 
}'ou carry in all the water she uses, and I carry 
up the coal from the cellar ; we run the errands, 
hold the baby whenever she tells us, and we do 
a great many other things every day of our 
lives.” 

0, yes, Charlie, I know ^ve do ; but what I 
mean, is to help her earn money, so that she 
need not go out washing.” 

I wish we could, too ; for I don’t think 
washing agrees with her.” 

I know it does not ; don’t you see how pale 
she is growing, and what a bad cough she has?” 

“Yes, Harry, I see she suffers very much; 
but I do not see what we can do more than we 
are doing, while we are such little boys as we 
are. After awhile we will be bigger, and able 
to work like men ; then we will do something 
to prevent her working so hard.” 

“Yes, Charlie, but after awhile is a long way 
off, and I want to do something to help her noAV, 
before she gets sick and dies.” 


We Four Villagers. 


139 


“Well, Harry, I will tell you what George 
Bridd told me this morning, when I met him at 
the end of the court ; he said, that every Satur- 
day, because there is no school then — he goes 
to school every other day in the Aveek, you 
know — I Avisli we could go to school, too ; 
0, dear! we cannot do anything like other 
boys. I Avonder Avhat is the reason? do you 
knoAv ?” 

“No matter Avhat the reason is, but tell me 
Avhat you Avere going to say about George 
Bridd." 

“ 0, yes I sure enough 1" said Charlie ; “ I al- 
most forgot Avhat I Avas going to say about 
George; I guess I must be getting sleepy." 

“ You need not think of being sleepy, for 
you shall not sleep a Avink this night, until you 
tell me Avhat George Bridd said." 

“ He said, that on every Saturday morning, 
he goes to Fairmount and catches ever so many 
catfish, and sells them to his mother." 

“ What does she do AAuth ever so many ?" 

“ She skins them, ties them in bunches, and 
carries them through the streets, and sells them 
to people who fry and eat them." 

“ Well, of all that, I don’t see any use to us." 

“ If you don’t I do." 


140 


We Four Villagers. 


Well, then, you see more than I do, if you 
are half asleep.’’ 

You know I always am the smartest.” 

Yes, I know you are, but I don’t think you 
are smart enough to make George Bridd’s cat- 
fish of any use to us.” 

I know we can, if mother will let us.” 

How?” 

^^If she would give us some money to buy 
fishing tackle, we might go out with him and 
catch fish too. 

^^May be his mother would not buy them 
from us.” 

0, yes she would ! for George said she 
bought fish from other people, because he could 
not catch as many as she can sell.” 

You are a smart boy, Charlie, that is true.” 
told you I was.” 

To-morrow we will ask mother about it, and 
see what she will say.” 

Yes ; but don’t say one word about it be- 
fore father or the other children.” 

Not I, indeed ! if he knew we had any 
money, he would take it from us. 

Yes, and put it where he does his own.” 

^^We all know where his goes; we would not 
want ours to follow his.” 


We Four Villagers. 


141 


If it did, it would not help mother much.” 

Only help her to more sorrow ; and poor, 
dear mother ! she has enough of that already.” 

Indeed she has.” 

Well, let us hope that we will catch heaps of 
fish, and make money enough to pay our rent.” 

^^And buy us something to eat 3 then she can 
live without going out to wash.” 

Full of these hopeful plans and new ideas, the 
boys at last fell asleep. They profoundly slept 
the healthy sleep of busy, earnest childhood. 

What a blessing and refreshment it was to 
their growing bodies, and to their expanding in- 
tellects. 

The next morning, according to agreement, 
they made known to their mother their grand 
fishing project. 

She did not anticipate very largely on the 
profits of the proposed speculation, but with 
maternal fondness for her noble boys, she wished 
to encourage their ambitious desires of aiding 
her in earning an honest living. She also con- 
sidered that the fishing excursion would be a 
pleasant treat and healthy recreation for the 
poor little fellows, who were so closely confined 
to the house and narrow court. 

Ever since Mr. EmgreeiTs death, Minnie and 
12 * 


142 


IYe Four Villagers. 


Merton had ceased to attend a place of public 
worship on Sunday. The habit of so doing, if 
once broken, is very seldom renewed. 

Therefore, although Merton and Minnie Mal- 
vers rested from their weekly toils on the Sab- 
bath, it was to them not a season of mental or 
spiritual improyement. And now, even if they 
had wished to go to church, or to send their 
children either there or to Sunday school, their 
inability to provide either them or themselves 
with decent clothing would have prevented 
them. Hence it was, that Harry and Charlie 
were growing daily stronger and stronger in a 
state of natural ignorance. Their minds were 
allowed to run wild in the mazes of human de- 
pravity ; yet, in their case, that depravity was 
of a milder form than is often met. 

Their minds had in them many gentle qual- 
ities, which rendered them very lovely children ; 
there seemed to be naturally more of good than 
of evil in their disposition. With pious and 
careful training, they would probably have been 
beautiful examples of youthful Christianity. As 
they were, sadly ignorant and neglected in 
their religious training, they were still very 
docile, kind and affectionate to all who had any 
intercourse with them. 


We Foue Yillagees. 


143 


Their mother indulged their hopes about the 
catfish excursion, and procured for them the re- 
quired tackle ; it did not cost a great deal, and 
she was so glad to see the hopefulness with 
which they anticipated a grand success, that 
she really enjoyed the pleasures of the prepara- 
tion for it almost as much as they did. 

Several Saturdays they went on their weekly 
trips to the Schuylkill, and on each trip they 
caught a greater number of fish ; as they became 
more accustomed to the art, they were more 
successful in the operation of taking them. 

Still, they were disappointed at the slow 
progress they made in collecting money, be- 
cause they did not realize from the sale of their 
fish as much as their mother did by her washing 
and ironing. 

Yet they persevered in their efforts, and con- 
tinued making them every Saturday, still hoping 
and hoping on, that after awhile they would be 
more efficient, and make as much, or even more 
money than their mother did. 

One day they went out, full of happy hopes 
and of bright anticipations. George Bridd was 
not well, and did not accompany them that 
day. The sky w^as cloudy, and they thought 
the fish v/oiild bite better than usual. Arrived 


144 


We Fouk Yillagers. 


at the side of the Schuylkill, and waiting some 
time in silence /or the beginning of a good suc- 
cess, they found the fish were very obstinate, 
and would not bite. They were on the point of 
feeling sadly disappointed, when a full grown 
fisherman, with whom they had made an ac- 
quaintance, came near them and said — 

What luck have you this morning, hoys 
^^Yery poor, indeed,” said Harry. 

I am,” said the man, going up the hank 
a little way, to borrow a boat from a friend ; 
then I intend to go to the middle of the dam, 
where I expect to fill my basket in a very short 
time.” 

0,” said Charlie, very eagerly, I wish we 
could go with you; we have never yet even 
half filled ours, and we would like so much to 
see it full.” 

Yes,” said Harry, we would like very 
much if we could go with you, and catch a 
large number of fish.” 

The man looked at the anxious boys before 
him, and wondered to himself what could make 
them so desirous to catch a large supply of 
fish, and he resolved to gratify their wishes. 
But before telling them that he would take them 
with him, he asked them about the reason why 


We Four Villagers. 


145 


they wished to go, what they intended to do 
with their fish, the name of their mother, and 
where she lived. He then said — 

What do you do with the money you get 
for your fish ?” 

“ We give it all,” said Harry — every cent — 
to our mother to help her pay our rent.” 

^*Well done, my boys!” said the man; ^^if 
that is the way you spend your money, I will 
he very glad to take you with me to the middle 
of the dam, and we will have a gay time of it I 
hope.” 

Very soon they were all three seated in the 
narrow fishing skiff, wdiich was a very small 
affair, worked by two oars and a small rudder. 


CHAPTEK XVII. 

FAIRMOUNT. 

When they reached the middle of the dam, 
the boys were greatly delighted with the beauty 
and novelty of their situation. The grassy banks, 
the green mounds, the brightly verdant foliage 
of the trees and shrubbery of Fairmount, con- 


146 


We Four Yillagers. 


trasted richly with the white fences and the red 
gravel walks, as they wound their winding way 
up the sides and around the top of the mount. 

The building of the water-works establish- 
ment, was of itself an attractive feature in the 
fiiry-like scene around them. The clatter, rush- 
ing, roaring noise of its never ceasing steam- 
worked machinery, was an enlivening sound to 
their listening, young ears. The wire suspen- 
sion bridge, a little way below them, looked like 
a piece of Avhite lace, made in some gigantic 
loom, of Dame Nature’s own handiwork; it 
hung so gracefully, so etherially, in its out- 
stretched span across the Schuylkill, that it was 
hard for the beholder to realize that it had been 
placed there by the bungling hand of man. It 
was so bright, so charming in its loveliness, 
that it looked as if it must have grown naturally 
where it was then seen. The piered and heavier 
permanent bridge, which, lower down the river, 
crossed it at Market street, with its lumbering, 
heavy sides, and its uncouth, cumbersome roof, 
contrasted very strongly with the wire bridge. 

The two together seemed to form a matrimo- 
nial pair of bridges; the one a mark of grace 
and beauty, the other of strength and utility. 

The gay gardens, the cultivated fields, and the 


We Four Yillagees. 


147 


green groveS; of the background of the picture 
on the West side of the proudly curved river^ 
dotted here and there^ as they were, with hand- 
some houses — country seats of rich Philadel- 
phians — with neat cottages, the permanent dwell- 
ing-places of many of the less opulent citizens, 
who were still in sufficient prosperity to be able to 
own and occupy their own pretty homes in the 
sweet, free air of the country, and who, by the 
aid of horse power, could rest in their cottage 
homes at night, and still attend to their fatiguing 
duties in the heated, crowded stores, offices and 
warehouses of the closely built streets of the 
city. 

Then the horse power canal boats, as they 
passed up and down the narrow channel, with 
their heavy cargoes of black, but brightly beam- 
ing coal heaps, as they approached the city, the 
empty ones as they passed the full ones, on 
their departure towards the mining regions, 
glided more speedily as they passed up the 
water, between the boundaries of the canal, gave 
an animated and busy expression to the features 
of the scene around the dam. 

Then the noisy and puffing steamtugs, that 
were to be seen here, there, and almost every- 
where on the surffice of the river, below the 


148 


We Four Villagers. 


dam, hurrying about, from jjlace to place, in 
their own peculiar sphere of propelling shallops, 
and sloops, and boats of various kinds, to a va- 
riety of places. It was, indeed, a bustling and 
enchanting scene, which 'was then presented on 
all sides, to the admiring eyes of our triplet of 
honest and industrious fishers. 

It was beautiful, even then, in the dark and 
cloudy state of weather. 0, then, how superbly 
magnificent must it ever be when viewed in the 
bright effulgence of an unclouded and beaming 
sun, canopied by a clear, blue sky, or on a 
moonlight night, when the rays of the lovely 
nocturnal orb are illumining every point within 
their reach. Yes ; it was a lovely sight even 
then, on that damp and cloudy Saturday morn- 
ing. Cheering and beautiful, also, were the 
hopes and faces of Harry and Charlie. Aye, in 
spite of their poverty, their irreligious training, 
their inebriate father, their sorrowing mother — 
her wearysome, toil-worn life, his sinfully ne- 
glectful conduct, their own joyless days, and of 
their fears about the future, and about their 
dear mother’s health — in spite of all these tire- 
some afflictions, which, like so many dark and 
threatening clouds, covered the sky of their 
present existence — in spite of all these disad- 


We Four Yillagers. 


149 


vantages — when they saw the many beauties by 
which they were so abundantly surrounded, 
they, in some measure, forgot their home misery, 
and felt very happy in the enjoyment of the 
passing hour. To them, at that time, the world 
seemed very fair, life very precious, and their 
young hearts were hopeful. 

Presently, large drops of rain descended ; the 
air w\as very still and sultry. In the West, 
there was gathering a black, heavy cloud, that, 
by contrast, made the hazy ones covering the 
other parts of the sky, which before had seemed 
so dark and heavy, now appear almost bright 
and light. The man looked towards the black 
cloud, and said — 

I am afraid, boys, we are going to have a 
heavy shower.” 

0, never mind if we do,” said Harry, cheer- 
fully ; we will not melt; fishermen must not 
be afraid of a little w^ater, you know.” 

Then there came a rush, a roar, and a long 
sweep of violent wind from the cloud in the 
West; instead of sending out a shower of rain, it 
spent its mighty force in lashing gusts of wind. 
The dam was instantly covered with short, 
foaming waves. The man became exceedingly 
alarmed, for he was not much accustomed to 
13 


150 


■\Ye Four Yillagees. 


the management of oars. The boat rocked and 
tumbled about the frothy waves like a piece of 
cork. 

The man lost his presence of mind, and in 
his confusion, he moved the oars in a wrong 
direction, which, added to the force of the wind 
and the swift current, almost immediately bore 
the frail little skiff to the brink of the dam falls. 
One moment it balanced itself half way over the 
edge of the dam, and in the next it pitched, keel 
uppermost, into the foam at the foot of the falls. 
The man was a good swimmer, and soon reached 
the surface of the water and grasped at Harry, 
and could have rescued him from all danger 
had he permitted him to keep hold of him. 
But Harry, seeing his brother Charlie buffetting 
with the waves one instant, then sink beneath 
them, he screamed — 

Charlie ! Charlie ! wmit one minute, and I 
will save you, Charlie !” 

As he said these words of agony, he tore 
himself from the grasp of the man, and then he 
too, sank beneath the surface. 

One of the small steamers put out a boat in- 
stantly, and tried to save the boys. Their 
bodies were rescued, but too late to save their 
lives. The vital spark in them was extinguished. 


We Four Villagers. 


151 


The man was properly taken care of, and pro- 
vided with dry clothing, at a public house in 
the neighborhood. Then, with a heavy heart, 
he went in search of the hoys’ mother, to pre- 
pare her, as well as he could, to hear the sad 
tidings of which he was the hearer. When he 
presented himself before the bereaved mother, 
there was no need of words to prepare her to 
hear something very terrible. His haggard 
face and trembling frame betrayed it. Minnie’s 
first thought flew towards her husband, and she 
fancied that he either must be killed or badly 
injured ; under this impression, she screamed, 
and said — 

My husband — what do you know of him ? 
Where is he ? Is he much hurt ?” 

Ma’am,” said the man,. I know nothing of 
your husband ; I never saw him ; but your boys — 
your sons — Harry and Charlie — ” 

Here the poor man was obliged to stop ; his sobs 
and groans choked his utterance, and he turned 
even more deadly pale than he was before. He 
now, more fully than ever, realized the immense 
keenness of the blow which he was doomed to 
inflict upon the heart of that sorrowing and 
feeble woman ; he feared the news would be 
more than she could bear, and that she, too. 


152 


We Four Yillagers. 


would sink beneath it to the dark silence of 
death, even as her precious sons had done, be- 
neath the bubbles of the foaming water. 

She wrung her hands, and in a heart-rending 
tone of voice she said — 

0, my sons, my darlings ! do not say they 
are hurt ! I cannot bear to think of their 
being in danger. But, ah, good sir, they must 
be, or you would not act the way you do.” 

She then wrung her hands, threw herself on 
a chair, and screamed and wept aloud, even be- 
fore she was informed by words, of her hopeless 
loss. Some of her neighbors, hearing her loud 
cries, gathered around her. After they found 
out from the man the cause of her vehement 
sorrow, they kindly insisted upon leading her 
up-stairs to her bed. There she remained the 
remainder of the day. 

Olimond, the next oldest boy, was sent out to 
try to find his father ; but, as usual, he was not 
in his proper place — a place a drunkard never 
occupies — he came home without being able to 
find him. 

The fisherman then returned to the vicinity 
of Fairmount, where the drowned bodies were 
still lying, waiting the arrival of the coroner, to 
hold an inquest over them. This inquest the 


We Fouk Villageks. 


153 


fisherman was obliged to attend, and very much 
he dreaded the result. He greatly feared he 
might be pronounced guilty of the crime of 
causing the death of the boys, although he knew 
he did all he could to save them, and that he 
would have shared their fate if he had not been 
a strong and expert swimmer. 

The inquest met at four o’clock in the after- 
noon; at about five o’clock they gave in the 
verdict, that the boys came to their death by 
accidental drowning. Thus, the man was cleared 
from the claims of the law, but the clamorings of 
his conscience were not so easily satisfied. • He 
never could forgive himself for the mismanage- 
ment of the oars, by which their destruction 
was partly caused. 

After the inquest was concluded, the fisher- 
man procured two broad pine boards and placed 
the bodies on them ; he then hired a furniture 
car to convey them to the home which they 
had left that morning — their physical frame 
in perfect health — the sorrows of their young 
hearts beautifully tinted and soothed into calm- 
ness, by the hope of being able to lighten the 
burden of their mother’s weekly toil ; now they 
were returning to that same home, their bodies 
so soon gone — ^^dust to dust, ashes to ashes” — 
13 * 


154 


We Four Yillagers. 


their hopeful hearts for ever hushed, their filial 
hopes for ever blasted ; and, instead of being the 
tighteners of their mother’s burden of toil, their 
untimely and sudden death had inflicted on her 
often wounded spirit, the hardest and heaviest 
blow which, till then, it had ever received. 

By the time the car reached the court in 
which Minnie lived, it was quite late in the 
afternoon, and it was met at the entrance by 
her kind neighbor, Mrs. Sallie B. Bridd. She 
had hurried through her fish selling that after- 
noon, more than usual, for she rightly guessed 
that when the bodies would reach home, her 
services would be required in the house of 
mourning. 

With her robust frame and excellent health, 
her strength of mind and body was almost equal 
to that of a man’s. Such things as delicate 
nerves and trembling fears, or superstitious 
dread of coming in contact with deceased hu- 
manity, were all beyond her comprehension. 
While the car, with its ghastly burden, was 
backing to the curbstone, she placed four chairs 
in the proper position, in the coolest part of 
the room ; then assisted the driver of the car 
carry the dead ones in the room, and place the 
boards on which they were lying, on the chairs. 


We Four Villagers. 


155 


She then procured^ from her own home, t^vo 
clean, white handkerchiefs and a sheet; she 
folded the hands upon the tw^o breasts, closed 
the yawning jaws, bandaged them up tightly, 
then closed for ever the four glazed eyes, and 
placed weights upon them. 

When these kind duties were fulfilled, the 
dear, departed ones looked as if they had been 
charmed away from more than half the horrible 
hideousness of death, wdiich is so frightful. 
They are painful duties ; and, alas, how many 
of us w^ould be wdlling to shrink cow^ardly 
away from performing them ! She then spread 
the clean, white sheet over the whole havoc, 
which death, by drowming,” there had wrought. 
Then she went to a certain drawer, in her 
own room, and drew from it two nicely folded 
pieces of black crape and white ribbon. Sadly 
she view^ed those mournful relics of her own 
past, painful bereavement; she then tied them 
on the door-knob and window-shutter of Minnie’s 
dwelling. 

Mrs. Bridd knew, very well, that Mrs. Mal- 
vers had not the means of procuring a decent 
burial for her lost treasures; no one could enter 
her scantily furnished abode, without coming to 
the conclusion that poverty had set a seal of 


156 


We Four Villagers. 


want upon it. She knew, also, that to apply to 
the county for the required aid, would be equiva- 
lent to deferring the funeral to an unpleasant, 
and perhaps, unbearable period. 

Merton had not yet returned home ; and as 
his habits were, by this time, well known to his 
neighbors, Mrs. Bridd concluded his presence 
would not be of much benefit if he should come. 
She, therefore, acted on her own responsibility, 
and resolved to lose no time in consulting either 
Minnie or Merton. She hastily attired herself 
in her best apparel, and walked as hurriedly as 
possible, to the office of the nearest undertaker, 
and ascertained the lowest sum for which he 
could bury the two boys. She then hurried to 
the yard gate of Mrs. Sansonn, for whom Minnie 
was in the habit of washing. When her loud 
knocking was answered by Essie, the cook, she 
said to her : — 

Essie, is Mrs. Sansonn at home T 
“ Yes, she is,” said Essie. 

Then please to tell her I want to see her 
for something very particular.” 

She will,” said Essie, want to know all 
about your business with her before she will 
either come down, or allow you to go up to 
her ; and so, to save trouble, you may as well 


We Four Villagers. 157 

tell me what it is before I go up to tell her 
about it.” 

Mrs. Bricld w^as out of patience at being thus 
hindered by delay, and said — 

Essie, you know Mrs. Malvers, the nice 
little woman who washes here, don’t you ?” 

Yes, and sure I do ; what about her ?” 

You kno^v, she had two fine little sons, 
named Harry and Charlie.” 

^Wes j she told me about them many a time, and 
said they were the greatest comfort of her life.” 

And so they were, Essie; but now they are 
both dead ; they were drowned to-day, at Fair- 
mount.” 

^^Well, Mrs. Bridd, what of that? Sure, 
ye’re not after wanting Mrs. Sansonn to bring 
them to life, are ye ?” 

No, no, Essie, of course not ; but you know, 
when we lose our children, we wish to see them 
decently buried, and not to give them up to the 
county, to be buried in Potters field.” 

Ah ! that’s what ye want, is it ? ye Avant 
Mrs. Sansonn to help bury the dead ?” 

Yes, Essie, that is what brought me here.” 

Now that I know ye’re business, me darlint, 
I will go up and see if she will have time to 
tend to it.” 


158 


We Four Yillagers. 


Mrs. Sansonn, after a few minutes’ delay, 
sent down word that Mrs. Bridd might walk up 
stairs to the parlor. 


CHAPTEE XYIII. 

THE SUMMER PARLOR. 

It was a large, airy room into which Mrs. 
Bridd was conducted by Essie. There were 
three stately windows on one side of it, open- 
ing upon a beautiful flower garden, in which 
bloomed and glowed in their vernal splendor, 
flowers of many hues, and natives of many dis- 
tant lands. The floor was covered with straw- 
colored matting, of very fine texture, made in 
Asia ; the chairs and sofas were covered with 
glossy, white linen, neatly fringed. The win- 
dows, the mirrors and large framed pictures that 
decorated the walls, and two elaborately carved, 
fancy tables, were all draped with richly em- 
broidered lace. 

This transparent, snow-white drapery gave a 
cool, refreshing aspect to the apartment, which 
fully entitled it to the name of the summer 


We Four Villagers. 


159 


parlor.” In the centre of the room there was 
a small, wrhite marble table ; near it sat a hand- 
some young lady — Miss Sansonn — clothed in 
white muslin; she was occupied in reading a 
new magazine. Mrs. Sansonn was reclining on 
one of the sofas, fanning herself with a light, 
feather fan. 

When Mrs. Bridd had made known her errand, 
Mrs. Sansonn said, very feelingly — 

Poor thing ! I am very sorry for her ; yes, 
certainly, I will be glad to help relieve her ; 
take this note, and tell her I am very sorry for 
her sad loss.” 

Thank you, thank you, ma’am, very much,” 
said Sallie B. Bridd. 

Will she be able to come here, as usual, 
next Monday ?” 

Indeed, I do not know^, ma’am.” 

^^'You will have the funeral some time to- 
morrow, I suppose.” 

Yes, ma’am, w’e must bury them to-morrow, 
because we cannot afford to buy ice to preserve 
them.” 

Well, if they are buried to-morrow, she can 
come on Monday, of course.” 

If she is well enough, I suppose she can ; 
she is not able to hold her head up, now; she 


160 We. Foue Yillagers, 

is very low ; indeed^ I think she is almost broken 
hearted.’’ 

I am afraid her husband is not worth much^ 
is he?” 

Ah ! how can he be^ when he drinks nearly 
all he earns.” 

That is very dreadful ! Well^ Sallie, if she 
cannot come on Monday, I will depend on you 
to procure me a substitute. We expect to leave 
town on Wednesday, and, therefore, we must 
not be disappointed next week, but must have 
our washing and ironing done before Tuesday 
evening.” 

Well, then, Mrs. Sansonn, if Mrs. Malvers 
cannot come, I will take care to find you another 
washer and ironer.” 

When Mrs. Bridd had departed, the young 
lady said — 

Mother, who is that woman ?” 

Mrs. Sallie Bose Bridd.” 

“ Mrs. Sallie Rose Bridd ? Her voice sounds 
exactly like that of the old woman who serves 
us with catfish ; what a shrill, piercing sound it 
has !” 

She is the same woman who serves us with 
fish, and she first recommended Mrs. Malvers 
to me.” 


We Four Yillagees. 161 

'^Why how nicely she looks! I did not 
know that a fish huckster could ever look as 
genteelly as she does.” 

Then, after a long pause, the young lady 
added — 

Mother, I wish you would let me run over 
to the court, to see if I cannot be of some use 
to poor Mrs. Malvers.” 

0, hush, my daughter ! do not think of such 
a thing ^ the idea of your having seen the miseries 
of her situation, would haunt my mind so vividly 
that I would not be able to sleep the whole 
night.” 

I wish I could go. Poor thing ! she must 
feel so very, very sorry.” 

Yes, of course she does; but you could not 
help her any, or remove her sorrow.” 

May I go over to-morrow morning and see 
if she needs anything ?” 

^^No, no, child ; do go on with your reading.” 

If Miss Sansonn had visited Minnie, what a 
beam of comfort her presence would have car- 
ried with it ! 

The poor greatly need gifts of money, but 
they still more need the blessed and rare gifts 
of kindness and tender hearted sympathy. The 
former they often receive, the latter, how seldom ! 

14 


162 


We Four Yillagers. 


Unless poor persons in pecuniary distress are 
visited^ they cannot be fully or wisely relieved. 

But may kind heaven^ in mercy, defend them 
from the cold, heartless, haughty and cruel 
visits which are sometimes paid them by visit- 
ing committees. Visits paid by force, and not 
from choice. 

Heaven help the poor from receiving such 
visits ! for there is neither kindness, nor sym- 
pathy, nor charity in them ; however, they are 
sometimes misnamed, by being called charitable 
visits f kind or sympathizing, even their payers 
do not consider them. 

But really kind visits, such as one human 
being might be expected to pay another, these 
are the visits to widows and orphans in their 
affliction, that will tend very materially towards 
keeping those who make them, unspotted from 
this wicked world ; their religion will be of the 
nature of the Great One who, while on earth, 
unfalteringly went about doing good. Such 
visits as He paid, will always carry with them 
their own reward, and those who bestow them 
will realize, in their own happy experience, that 
it ^Gs more blessed to give than to receive.’' 
Many such visitors there are, and they are 
more like angels than men — carrying peace and 


We Fouk Yillagees. 


163 


comfort with them wherever they go. May 
Heaven’s richest blessing ever rest upon them ! 
This world would be a dreary place without them. 
Ill the same proportion, it would be more lovely 
than it is, if their number could be increased ; 
they are like gentle drops of dew, which silently, 
but steadily and infallibly refreshen the soil, 
and keep alive the languishing plants suffering 
therein — languishing from lack of prosperity — 
even as the herbs of the field languish in a time 
of drought ; yet they live on, blessed, night by 
night, with the dews of heaven. 

Miss Sansonn tried to read, but she could 
not ; after a long pause she again ventured to 
speak, and said : — 

Mother, you remember when my little bro- 
ther died? the darling! how much we loved 
him ! how bitterly we lament his loss ! Then, 
do you not remember, dear mother, that in the 
evening, about this same hour, Mrs. Iredom 
came in and read to you a few passages from 
the Gospel?” 

^^Yes, daughter, I do remember that her 
Vv'ords were very full of consolation to my sor- 
rowing heart.” 

Yes, mother, I know they were. Now, if I could 
go and read the same passages toMrs.Malvers — ” 


164 


We Four Yillagers. 


Now, my child, do be still, or you will 
break my heart. Mrs. Bridd is a good Chris- 
tian, and she will take better care of Mrs. Mal- 
vers than you could do.” 

Sad, sad mistake ! 

Mrs. Bridd was a good Christian, and a very 
active one, too ; but she was human, and could 
not do everything. She was too busily engaged 
at that time, in preparing to have the boys de- 
cently interred, and in attending to Mrs. Mal- 
vers’ bodily Avants, to have a moment of time to 
spend in administering to her spiritual comfort. 
Even if she had thought of it, she would not 
have presumed to have offered to read aloud to 
Mrs. Malvers. She instinctively felt that Min- 
nie’s education was far superior to her own, and 
therefore she would have been ashamed to read 
aloud to her in the stammering, blundering way 
in which only she could read. Her education, 
in early life, had been very limited. 

When she left Mrs. Sansonn, she ^valked very 
rapidly to the house of Minnie’s other lady em- 
ployer. In her family, Mrs. Bridd was un- 
knowm; still, she A^entured to call and make 
known her errand. Not being accustomed to 
the Avays of the house or its entrances, she Avas 
obliged to ring the front door-bell. 


165 


We Foue Yillagees. 

When the same tedious explanations had been 
made to Biddy, Mrs. Nay lore’s servant, Mrs. 
Bridd added the statement of Mrs. Sansonn’s 
having given her a bank-note to help pay the 
expenses of the funeral. 

Biddy then left Mrs. Bridd standing in the 
vestibple, fastened the hall door, and proceeded 
up-stairs with her message. Mrs. Naylore wxas 
busily engaged in preparing to pay an evening 
visit, and Avas not pleased at the interruption. 
But Minnie was a favorite with Biddy, and she 
persevered most firmly in her efforts to prevail 
on her lady to aid the funeral fund. 

But who is this Mrs. Bridd, who comes 
here in the name of Mrs. Malvers? Do you 
know her ?” 

No ma’am, I do not ; I never saw her be- 
fore; but I know she must be honest, by her 
looks; and besides that, she showed me the 
bank-note that Mrs. Sansonn gave her for the 
same object, but it is not enough to pay all the 
charges of the undertaker.” 

Well, Biddy, if Mrs. Malvers’ boys are really 
dead, and she is too poor to bury them decently, 
of course it is my duty to aid her. Send Sallie over 
to see Mrs. Sansonn and ask her if she knows this 
Mrs. Bridd, and if she did give her a bank-note.” 


166 


■\Ye Fouk Yillagers. 


Sallie went, saw Mrs. Sansonn, and returned 
with a favorable report. Then, Mrs. Naylore 
gave Biddy a very liberal donation for the 
funeral. 

All this time, Mrs. Bridd was left standing in 
the locked vestibule. She could not enter far- 
ther in the house, because the hall door was 
fastened on the inside. She could not open the 
street door, on account of its numerous locks, 
bolts, bars and brass chains which encased it, 
defying her knowledge of locksmithcraft ; she 
tried several times, but could not succeed in 
opening it. She was very tired ; but the ves- 
tibule was unfurnished, paved with slabs of 
brightly polished marble ; she dared not sit on 
it, fearing, if she did, her black dress would soil 
it. She concluded that Biddy had forgotten 
she was there, and that she would be kept a 
prisoner until some caller would ring the front 
door-bell. Not a very pleasant anticipation, 
hurried as she was, with so many things mean- 
while being neglected. 

By the time Biddy delivered Mrs. Sansonn’s 
money and dismissed her, it was a quarter be- 
fore eight o’clock. Mrs. Bridd greatly wondered 
how she could accomplish all her wishes between 
then and midnight. All this time Minnie was 


We Four Yillagers. 


167 


alone with the children, ^vho were too young to 
know how to comfort her. Two wmmen were 
keeping watch over the dead, below stairs ; but 
to Minnie there was neither consolation nor 
words of peace offered. Had some one then read 
to her the words of life written in the Scriptures, 
hovf like the voices of angels they would have 
seemed ! 

Meanwhile, i\Irs. Bridd hurried to the house 
of her own pastor, who furnished her with the 
money she still required, from a fund which he 
held in trust for similar cases. He also prom- 
ised to officiate at the funeral of the drowned 
boys, on the afternoon of the following day. 

She then went to the office of the undertaker, 
and gave him orders about the funeral. She 
requested him to cut out the shrouds, explain 
to her how they were to be made, and informed 
him that she would dispense with the customary 
services of his female attendant, by making the 
shrouds herself, that night. 

He agreed to call at Minnie’s house at nine 
o’clock in the morning, with a double coffin. 

Mrs. Bridd then went home, gave sundry 
directions to her son, then went to Minnie’s to 
spend the night. She found her still weeping, and 
her children around her in darkness and hunger. 


168 


We Foue Yillagees. 


She gave them their supper^ after which they 
were very soon asleep. INlrs. Bridd then began 
making the shrouds, at which she was assisted 
by two other female neighbors, who also offered 
to remain with her during the night. At half- 
past eleven, the shrouds w^ere finished. 

The three women then put the room in order, 
seated themselves near the front window, and 
talked over the arrangements of the funeral, 
until the public clock in the neighborhood struck 
a loud peal on its great iron bell ; another, and 
another peal followed it, until twelve loud strokes 
of the iron tongue of time” told the hour of mid- 
night — the close of the last day of the week ; 
another day, another week, then began its 
solemn, still, onward march, towards an endless 
eternity. 

The strokes were sounded upon the quiet 
midnight air with almost fearful distinctness ; so 
loud, so shrill, so piercing, they seemed, in the 
silence so universally reigning over all else in 
the vicinity, that Mrs. Bridd feared they must 
have aroused Minnie from her slumber. She 
went up-stairs to see, and found her wide 
awake, and w^eeping very bitterly. Her babe also 
needed attentions which she had not strength to 
bestow on it. 


We Four Yillagers. 


169 


Mrs Bricld warmed some milk for it over the 
lamp. After feeding it she sat on a rocking 
.chair in the bed-room, and rocked and sang it to 
sleep, as she softly murmured the words of the 
old times nursery ditty of Dr. Watts, called the 

CRADLE HYMN. 

Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, 

Holy angels guard thy bed ; 

Heavenly blessings, without number, 

^ Gently falling on thy head. 

Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment, 

House and home, thy friends provide. 

All without thy care or payment. 

All thy wants are well supplied. 

How much better thou’rt attended. 

Than the Son of God could be. 

When from heaven he descended. 

And became a child like thee. 

Soft and easy is thy cradle. 

Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay. 

When his birth-place was a stable. 

And his softest bed was hay. 

Blessed babe ! what glorious features — 

Spotless, fair, divinely bright I 

Must he dwell with brutal creatures ? 

How could angels bear the sight ? 

Was there nothing but a manger 
Fallen sinners could afford. 

To receive the Heavenly Stranger ? 

Did they thus affront their Lord ? 


We Foue Yillagees. 

Soft, my child, I did not chide thee, 

Tho’ my song may sound too hard ; 

’Tis thy mother sits beside thee, 

And her arms shall be thy guard. 

Yet, to read the shameful story. 

How the Jews abused their King ; 

How they served the Lord of Glory, 

Makes me tremble while I sing. 

See the kinder shepherds round Him, 

Telling wonders from the sky ; 

There they sought Him, there they found Him, 
With His Virgin Mother by. 

See the lovely Babe a dressing ; 

Lovely Infant, how He smiled ! 

When He wept, the mother’s blessing 
Soothed and hushed the Holy Child. 

Lo ! He slumbers in His manger. 

Where the horned oxen fed ; 

Peace, my darling, here’s no danger, 

There are no oxen near thy bed. 

’Twas to save thee, child, from dying — 

Save my dear from burning flame. 

Bitter groans and endless crying — 

That thy blest Bedeemer came. 

May’st thou live to know and fear Him, 
Trust and love him all thy days ; 

Then go dwell for ever near Him, 

See His face, and sing His praise. 

I could give thee thousand kisses. 

Hoping what I most desire ; 

jSTot a mother’s fondest wishes 
Can to greater joys aspire. 


We Four Yillagers. 


171 


The gentle, soothing words of the cradle 
ditty, lulled both mother and child; and, finding 
they were asleep, Mrs. Bridd silently placed the 
babe on the bed, then went down stairs to keep 
watch over the dead. 


CHAPTEE XIX. 

THE YOW — THE COURT FUNERAL. 

One o’clock struck, but it did not arouse the 
sleepers ; neither did it bring home the absent 
husband and father. Two o’clock was chimed 
by the great bell of the hall. Soon after its 
echoes had died away on the stilly night” air, 
the anxious watchers heard, coming up the court, 
a heavy, staggering, unsteady step. They sus- 
pected whose it was, and they awaited its nearer 
approach with trembling fearfulness. They set 
the front door wide open, so that he need not 
have to knock or make a noise in opening it. 

Merton Malvers staggered into the room, so 
much under the influence of ruthless old King 
Alcohol, that they wondered how he could have 
found his way home. When he entered, he did 


172 


We Four Villagers. 


not seem to see or notice anything before him ; 
his eyes were more than half closed ; he stag- 
gered towards the staircase, and tried to ascend 
it, hut the effort w^as beyond his ability. Al- 
though, in common with the baser sort who 
love strong drink, he did not like water, but was 
like water, in his propensity of finding a level ; 
so, that instead of ascending the stairs, he fell 
on the floor, near them, and there he remained, 
as still as a log — as still as the ^^worm of the 
stilV could make him. He slept in the same 
place and position until a late hour of the next 
day. His arrival and fall did not disturb his 
wife; she continued to sleep until day-dawn. 
At the return of the morning’s bright sun-rays, 
she awoke to a full sense of her sorrowful 
miseries. The first words she uttered were the 
names of her drowned sons. 

Charlie, Harry ! 0, my sons, my darlings ! 
how can I live without you ?” 

In a moment, Mrs. Bridd was at her side, and 
she told her that her husband was asleep, on 
the floor of the lower room. This information 
made her suddenly very quiet; and she begged 
Mrs. Bridd to try to keep the house very still ; 
for, said she — 

If he sleep undisturbed, long enough, he 


We Four Yillagees. 


173 


will awaken sober, and act properly; but if his 
sleep be broken while still under the influence 
of liquor, he will be ungovernable, and will pro- 
bably leave the house for a long time — perhaps 
for weeks or months.” 

By this time Olimond and Isabel came from 
the upper room; soon afterwards, numerous 
other bare little feet came softly down the stairs, 
until all the children were again in their mother’s 
room. 

She endeavored to arise, intending to give 
them their breakfast ; but her head reeled, and 
she was obliged to replace it on her pillow. 

There, now!” said Mrs. Bridd, ^^you see 
you are too weak to get up. Lie still, and I 
will give them their breakfast, and then bring 
up yours ; after you have eaten it you will feel 
better.” 

When the children were done eating, they re- 
turned up-stairs, where they remained until din- 
ner time. 

After Mrs. Bridd put Minnie’s room in order, 
and attended to the Avants of the babe, she went 
to her OAvn house, where she prepared a very 
nice little breakfast for Minnie ; it had been a 
long while since she had seen as nicely a pre- 
pared one brought to her bedside. 


174 


We Four Villagers. 


She sat up in bed and reviewed the tempting 
arrray it presented to her eyes, with many 
grateful feelings towards her kind neighbor, 
and in - her mourning, sorrowing heart, she 
blessed her for her many considerate attentions. 
She tried to feel very much pleased, and said — 

^^Dear, good Mrs. Bridd, you have brought 
me a breakfast that is fit to be placed before a 
queen.” 

Then she made an effort to eat ; but as she 
did so, a remembrance flashed with cutting 
sharpness through her mind — a lump heavy as 
lead, hard as iron — suddenly choked up her 
throat ; and ah ! there was no room there for 
food, however nicely and kindly it was prepared. 
After making several ineffectual attempts to 
speak^ she at last sobbed out — 

This is Sunday morning, is it not ?” 

^Wes, dear, it is,” said Mrs. Bridd; ^^and 
you can take your own time to eat your break- 
fiist ; there is no work to be done to-day.” 

0, Mrs. Bridd, I w^as not thinking of my 
work. But last Sunday morning I was not 
well ; I had been worried more than usual the 
day before ; I had coughed nearly all night, and 
could not get up as usual on Sunday morning. 
And 0; Mrs. Bridd, how can I bear my dreadful 


■\Ye Four Villagers. 


175 


loss? Then, my two darling boys took such 
good care of my other children, gave them their 
breakfast, and when they were all quieted, dear 
Charlie and Harry both stood where you are 
standing now, with my breakfast in their hands, 
and said, so lovingly — 

^ Here, mammy-baby, here are your two 
good old nurses; we have — have brought you 
up some nice, hot breakfast, and we say you 
must eat it, or we will call you our naughty 
mammy-baby.”^ 

0 , 0 ! how little I thought it was the last 
time ! and now, to know that I will never, never 
see them again.” 

Eat your breakfast, now, my dear lady, and 
after a little while I wull take you down stairs 
to see them ; yes, you shall see them again, and 
you shall see, too, how nicely I have fixed them 
up for you.” 

0, Mrs. Bridd, you do everything so nicely ! 
How could I do without you ?” 

If you wish to prove what you say, let me 
see you eat. I will not believe you unless 
you do.” 

I will force myself to eat for your sake.” 

After Minnie had finished her breakfast, and 
the tray was removed, Mrs. Bridd busied her- 


176 


We FoUE YiLL AGEES. 


self in various ways about the room and bed, 
and did all she could think of to divert Minnie’s 
mind, until after the undertaker had come and 
put the bodies in their coffin. 

When he had taken his departure, she went 
down to see how they looked. She found, that 
though the coffin was only pine, it was stained 
SO skilfully and varnished so brightly, that, to 
her unpractised eye, it looked as well as the 
best mahogany she ever saw. The shrouds were 
neatly fitting; the hair of the silent sleepers 
was smoothly brushed ; their hands and arms 
w^ere united in a last fraternal embrace. She 
decked their bosoms with small clusters of bright, 
green leaves of rose-geranium, from a plant 
growing in her own window; and then she 
thought, as they lay in their purity of white, 
spotless flannel, and hopeful green leaves, they 
formed a beautiful object, fit to be gazed upon 
very fondly. She then returned to Mrs. Malvers, 
and conducted her down stairs to see them. 

Very silently they stepped along, so as not to 
awaken Merton, who still slept on the floor. 

The mother seeing them — the drowned boys — 
looking so calm and lovely, in what seemed to 
be a peaceful, happy sleep ; then as her eyes 
wandei’fed to the sight of her husband’s bloated. 


We Four Yillagers. 


177 


distorted face, and his poison-defiled features, 
the contrast between their apparent serenity, 
and his frightful deformities, was very striking — 
impressive. After looking at them awhile in 
silence, she whispered to Mrs. Bridd — 

0, look at them, and look at their father ! 
If they had lived to be as old as he is, who 
knows but they might have become as he is ?” 
You see, then, my dear,” said Mrs. Bridd, 
how true it is, that God knows what is best 
for us poor sinners. You would certainly rather 
see them as they are, than as he is.” 

0, yes, yes ! a thousand times rather. I 
will now try not to grieve any more over their 
early loss. You may close the coffin until this 
afternoon, and then I will look at them once 
more. 

The two women then returned to the middle 
room, and spent the remaining hours of the morn- 
ing in talking over the trials and sorrows of 
their past lives. 

Minnie dwelt at large upon the sad event, 
which she always blamed for Merton’s fall into 
intemperately dissipated habits; and in telling 
about it, she was obliged to recount all the cir- 
cumstances of her birth and parentage, as far as 
she knew them. She told it all apologetically, 
15 * 


178 


We Four Yillagees. 


to shield Merton as much as she possibly could 
from the ill opinion of Mrs. Bridd. She was 
anxious he should stands in her eyes, on the 
best footing on which she could place him. 
Minnie felt so grateful to good Mrs. Bridd for 
her many acts of kindness and assistance in her 
present sore affliction, that she thought she 
ought to manifest her gratitude by placing in 
her a full and unreserved confidence. 

Mrs. Bridd was much interested in the ac- 
count, and repaid Minnie for it by telling some 
of her own past domestic bereavements. She 
was an orphan ; she was poor, and used to hard 
work all the days of her life. Her husband had 
been a laborer in a brick-yard ; he was steady, 
frugal, and very industrious. He was promoted 
to be a regular moulder and burner of bricks ; 
then he was made boss or foreman of a large 
brick-making establishment. He was well pros- 
pered ; and by saving up his honest earnings, 
he, in a few years, bought a house and lot. 
Afterwards, he was taken sick, of typhus fever, 
from the effects of which he died. 

Soon after his death, another person brought 
claims against his property, and commenced a 
suit in court to recover it from her. It then ap- 
peared that Mr. Bridd had been imposed on by 


We Four Villagers. 


179 


the person of whom he had purchased his pro- 
perty, and that his title w^as not good. 

She was turned out of the house, with three 
young children to support. She picked up for 
them a precarious living, in various kinds of 
illy paid for labor, until they were aged six, 
eight and ten years. At that time they were 
seized with scarlet fever, and all three died 
within the same week. 

When her husband died, she had bought a 
burying lot in Monument Cemetery, and there 
she buried her three children. 

George, she said, was not her own son, but an 
adopted one, whom she w’as raising as her own. 

As the two women talked together of their 
past bereavements, and of their present trials, 
they took little notice of the flight of time, as it 
passed on in its ceaseless progress. It tarried 
not to listen to their lowly whispered tales of 
sorrow. 

The hours, meanwhile, flew quickly and un- 
heeded past them. Presently, the troop of 
Minnie’s young children came peeping into the 
room, looking wistfully towards their mother’s 
pale, sad face. 

She looked at them, then understanding well 
the nature and import of their errand, said : — 


180 


We Fouk Villagers. 


^^0, my! its that time of clay, is it? You 
are getting hungry, and beginning to feel the 
want of your dinner, are you, children ?” 

“ Yes ma’am,” they answered, in a whisper. 
Then, I must go down stairs and make you 
a cup of coffee.” 

^‘No, you shall not, this day,” said Mrs. 
Bridd ; don’t trouble yourself about their din- 
ner ; it is too soon, yet, for dinner ; but, come 
in here, now, all of you, and stay with your 
mother until I bring you in something nice, 
that George cooked for you last night while I 
was in here attending to your baby. Now, be 
very quiet; I will come as soon as I can. 
Then we will all eat our dinners together, here 
in mother’s room. 

Mrs. Bridd then went down stairs, and found 
Merton arousing from his long sleep. She took 
a seat near him, and said : — 

Mr. Malvers, a very great misfortune came 
to you yesterday, and you are still ignorant of 
it. It is a sad, sad loss, and one that will never, 
never be recovered by you.” 

He stared at her in mute bewilderment, and 
gasped, as he said — 

What 1 is — is my wife dead ?” 

N6, not your wife ; she is not dead yet, but 


We Fouk Yillagees. 


181 


others are. Don’t you see that double coffin 
there, in that corner ?” 

Merton walked towards it and lifted the lid, 
gazed wildly upon the faces of his sons, then 
said — 

0, neighbor ! when did this happen ?” 

^Westerday.” 

How ? when ? where ?” 

^^At Fairmount. The how and why it hap- 
pened, is because your two noble boys wanted 
to do what you ought to do.” 

What was it they wanted to do ?” 

Earn money, to prevent their mother going 
I out washing and ironing, to support you and 
j your children, while you drink away all your 
I earnings, and thus force her to that hard work.” 

, Merton was sober enough then, and wide 
I awake too ; the astonishment he felt, blunted his 
I feelings about the death of his boys, and the 
I woman near him began to fear he was so hard- 
j ened in sin, as not to care for their death. He 
j gazed at her mutely, a few moments, then said — 
I You dont, surely, mean that my wife — my 
j Minnie — goes out washing ?” 

Tell me, sir, how do you suppose your wife 
and children live ?” 

How do they live ?” repeated Merton. 


182 


We Four Yillagers. 


^Wes ; how do you think their living is pro- 
cured ? You do not want them to steal or beg, 
do you?” 

0, no, no, no ! I thought I gave them 
money enough to live on.” 

You ? Why, sir, you have never given them 
enough to pay one month’s rent since they have 
lived in this house.” 

“And has my wife earned the rent by wash- 
ing?” 

“ Yes ; and in trying to prevent her suffering 
such a hardship, these noble-minded boys went 
to the Schuylkill to catch fish to sell, and give 
their money to her. Why, sir, you have as 
good as drowned these boys, in the bad liquor 
with which you are very fast drowning your 
own soul, and you are also hurrying your poor, 
delicate wife to an untimely grave.” 

“ 0, my sons, my sons ! my poor sons !” 

Thus sobbed the miserable father, as he 
leaned over them, and kissed their clay-cold 
faces. 

Mrs. Bridd seeing him at last aroused to a 
natural state of feeling, and hoping that it might 
have a good influence on his future conduct, left 
him “ alone with the dead.” 

Very soon she was busy in preparing a mid- 


We Four Yillagers. 


183 


day meal for the bereaved family. She made 
a large pot fall of coffee. While it was boilingj 
she sliced some bread and butter, and a large 
piece of cold, boiled, corned beef, the cooking of 
which beef George had superintended the pre- 
vious evening, while he, at the same time, 
studied his Sunday-school lessons. 

As Merton leaned there alone, over the coffin 
of his drowned boys, he vowed, in the bitter- 
ness of his anguish, that he would never again 
drink one drop of liquor. 

Ah ! but he had often before made the same 
vow ; always made, only to be broken. 

After the dinner 'was removed, one of the 
male residents of the court came in to see Mrs. 
Bridd, and said — 

How many carriages hev ye hired for this 
fuifral?" 

Only two.” 

Only two ?” 

Yes ; we could not afford to hire more.” 

^^Ah, I was fearin’ ye wouldn’t! Have you 
engaged a hearse ?” 

Ho ; the coffin must go in one of the car- 
riages.” 

^^A fun’ral of two carriages, and no hearse, 
out of our coort, and that, too, on a Sunday! 


184 


We Fouk Villagers. 


f-'Why, Mrs. Bridd^ it would be a disgrace 
to the hale coort.” 

know, John, it will be shameful, but we 
are very poor and cannot help it.’’ 

you can’t, I will try and see what I can 
do to hilp it.” 

The man then w^ent among his acquaintances, 
and begged money enough to hire a hearse and 
four more carriages. Thus, it was among these 
short-pursed but open-hearted courtiers — they 
were more willing, for the honor of their coort” 
on a Sunday — to help bury the dead decently, 
than were some of their rich neighbors in the 
goodly city of Brotherly Love. 

Mrs. Bridd then busied herself in preparing 
the children as neatly as she could for the occa- 
sion. It was impossible to procure suitable 
clothing for them all ; but she did the best she 
could towards making them look decent ; and 
that best was, verily, poor enough. She bor- 
rowed a suit of black clothes and a good hat for 
Merton; it happened he had a pair of good 
boots. She also borrowed a black dress and 
bonnet for Minnie. A shawl she procured from 
her own home. 

If Mrs. or Miss Sansonn had been there, as 
the preparations for that simple funeral were 


We Four Yillagers. 


185 


progressing, they would have seen many ways 
in which their aid would have been very useful. 
A few dollars of their abundance, judiciously 
given in that time of need, wmuld have been at 
once a blessing and a relief to Minnie and Mrs. 
Bridd'. 

At six o’clock they were all ready to start. 
The parents, brothers, sisters and a few humble 
neighbors had taken their last leave of the 
beautiful dead. 

The double coffin lid was screwed over all 
that was mortal of Charlie and Harry Malvers. 
Then, in a little while, the funeral procession 
slowly proceeded down the street; through 
several broad avenues, over which the solemn 
stillness of the Sabbath day’s silence calmly 
presided. Then they entered the wide tho- 
roughfare known as Broad street; no sooner 
had they turned the corner into it, than they, 
strangely enough, seemed to have left behind 
them all the stillness of holy time. The road 
was filled with vehicles, drawn by spirited 
horses, that flashed and dashed past each other 
as if they, or their drivers, had entirely for- 
gotten, or more probably, had never learned 
the meaning of the fourth commandment. 
Many groups of pedestrians crowded the side- 
16 


186 


We FoUE YiLL AGEES. 


walks — some entering, others going from the 
cit}^ 

They presented an animated, cheerful scene ; 
hut to the mourning hearts, following that double 
coffined hearse, the view, lively as it was, ap- 
peared only to make the darkness of their own 
sorrow all the harder to hear, when brought 
into contrast with it. 

The sky was brilliantly blue ; the bright Sum- 
mer’s sun-rays gilded housetops, trees, hedges, 
fences. The same Summer’s sun-rays sent up 
a blaze of illumined glory over and among the 
light, fleecy clouds that were beginning to clus- 
ter in the Western sky, as if Dame Nature was 
there preparing a couch of gorgeously tinted 
plumes, on which might repose her favorite son, 
as he retired, in splendid magnificence, to his 
nocturnal rest. 

Could Minnie and Merton have looked upon 
that etherael glory, and have seen in it a type 
of the eternal splendors of the abode of their 
Creator, they could, through faith, have enjoyed 
the majesty and infallible love which He ever 
manifests towards all those who seek Him, and 
who desire to find Him; then they would not 
have felt as utterly wretched and hopeless as 
they did. But they did not even think of Him. 


We Four Villagers. 187 

IIow strange, how unaccountably strange it 
is, that reason-gifted, soul-endowed, immortal 
beings should look upon the works of God, in 
his creation, and fail to remember, love and 
honor Him as their Omnipotent Benefactor ! 

When the funeral procession reached the 
cemetery, it wound its way through several 
broad, gravelled roads, passed many beautiful 
groups and rows of shady, green trees. The 
woodbines and the roses were in full bloom, and 
as they hung, in rich abundance, over the rail- 
ings of the family lots, their sweet perfume 
filled the air wdth lovely fragrance. Birds 
fluttered, twittered, sang and sprang about and 
among the branches of the trees. All Nature 
seemed to be trying very hard to make this 
earth as beautiful as it could be made, while 
occupied, as it is, by sinful and thankless man- 
kind. 

The funeral ceremonies over the grave were 
very soon concluded. Then the minister led 
the way back to the carriages, and the precious 
dead, still uncovered by the clods of the val- 
ley,” were left to the care of hired and unknown 
grave-jmrd laborers. This moving away from 
the grave, while it was still unfilled, was a sore 
trial to the bereaved mother. It was so differ- 


188 ^ Y % Fouk Yillagers, 

ent from the country custom she was used to, 
that it seemed to her almost a cruel and un- 
natural desertion of her darling sons ; but such 
is the tyranny of custom ; no matter what her 
feelings were, she was torn forcibly away from 
the still yawning grave. Had she resisted the 
force against her more than she did, she would 
have been looked upon as one bereft of her 
reason, and would have been all the more 
powerfully forced from it. 

After their return to the court, every one 
went quietly to his or her own home, except 
Mrs. Bridd ; she spent the rest of the evening 
with Minnie and Merton Malvers. 

George Bridd prepared and ate . his evening 
meal in solitude, then went to church alone. 

After Minnie had taken her supper, Mrs. 
Bridd delivered to her Mrs. Sansonn’s message, 
about fulfilling, at her house, her usual Monday 
morning engagement, and concluded it by ask- 
irg— 

Do you think you will be able to go to- 
morrow ?” 

0, yes, Mrs. Bridd ! I must be able, whether 
I feel so or not. If my husband could be de- 
pended on, I would not have to go 5 but I know 
him too well to trust the solemn promises he 


■We Four Villagers. 


189 


has made to-day, never to drink again. Next 
week our rent must be paid ; it will be hard 
enough to raise the required money even if I do 
keep my appointments ; without keeping them, 
it would be impossible. I will have to trust 
the care of the house and younger children to 
Olimond and Isabel ; I know I will feel very 
uneasy about them ; but there is no remedy for 
it, I must go.” 

“ Well, my dear Mrs. Mai vers, if you can, I 
dare say it will not hurt you more than it would 
to stay at home all day ; but you need not be 
uneasy about your house or children ; I will be 
at home to-morrow, until four o’clock in the 
afternoon, and I will have a care over them. 
No doubt they will get along very nicely.” 

^^We will have to make the experiment, at 
any rate, and see how it will answer.” 

Olimond seems to be a very steady, quiet 
boy, for his age,” said Mrs. Bridd. 

^^Yes, he is quiet enough, but he has his 
faults ; he is fond of teazing the other children, 
and I am afraid there will not be much peace 
among them while I am away.” 

The next morning, Merton Malvers awoke 
from his slumbers, with the resolution in his 
heart to become a sober and a better man. He 
16 * 


190 


We Four Yillagers. 


ate his breakfast as usual, in silence, and seemed 
to have forgotten all about what Mrs. Bridd had 
told him respecting Minnie’s having to go out 
to wash and iron for the support of the family. 

At a quarter before six he prepared, hod 
in hand, to go to his work, llis wife then 
handed him his dinner-basket, and he left the 
house. Had he been in the wild woods,” or 
on some lonely prairie, where he wmuld have 
been free from temptation, he would, perhaps, 
have been able to carry into execution the laud- 
able resolution with which he hailed the dawning 
light of that beautiful Monday morning. But the 
means of breaking his resolution were within his 
reach, and he could not resist the temptation to 
possess them. The remembrance of his dead 
boys, instead of being a lesson to warn him from 
further indulgence in the habits which brought 
in their train so many fruits of sorrowful bitter- 
ness, seemed only to strengthen and add fresh 
vigor to the clamors of the demon of the still, 
which within gnawed upon his vitals, and with 
irresistible demand, ceased not saying, as it 
clamored and as it gnawed — 

More drink ! more drink !” 

It clamored, it gnawed, and it demanded, 
until, in its fury, it made him forget or dis- 


We Four Yillagers. 191 

regard the resolution with which he had begun 
the day. 

By the time he reached the door of the grog- 
gery, situated near his working-place, he found 
that he was completely under its control ; that 
its power over him was strong as chains of 
adamant, and that his resolution was weaker 
than a cobweb. But he was destitute of the 
means of procuring a single glass. His last 
week’s earnings had all disappeared. He had 
either spent or lost them on Saturday night ; he 
could not tell which way they went, neither 
did he care much ; all he did care for, Avas to 
know that his pockets were empty, and that he 
Avas in Avant of his customary morning drink. 
He was not long in a state of perplexity on the 
subject. He had, quite recently, bought himself 
a pair of good boots ; these he offered at the 
bar of the tavern for liquor. 

The offer was accepted ; he thus proved to 
himself hoAV much his wife could depend on him 
or his resolutions for the means of living. 

Thus he progressed, from one degree of hard- 
heartedness to another, until he AA\as lost to 
every sense of feeling, except the one ever 
abiding feeling of unquenchable thirst. 

Ah ! but Avas not his a bitter and a lamentable 


192 


We Foue Yillagees. 


bondage to wily and mighty old King Alcohol ? 
And yet — 0, my soul ! there was a time when 
that tyrant’s hold on him was as light and as 
powerless as it is even now on thee. 

See to it, then, that thou let him not tighten 
his grasp on thee; and rememember that the 
only security against his allurements is the reso- 
lution to 

“ Touch not, taste not the unclean thing,” 
the use of which had reduced Merton Malvers 
to the miserable condition of bartering his boots 
from his feet, for the liquid fire which was de- 
stroying his soul and body, not only for all time, 
but — how solemn the thought — for the countless 
ages of all eternity. 


CHAPTER XX. 

OTHER SAD CHANGES. 

V/hile Merton Malvers stood in the tavern, 
bartering away his good boots for bad liquor, 
his wife busied herself very hurriedly through 
her morning duties, then gave oft-repeated di- 
rections to Olimond and Isabel about managing 


We Four Villagers. 


193 


the other children and preparing their dinner. 
All these things being done, she hastened away, 
as fast as her feeble frame would permit her? 
towards the house of her employer. 

So' filled w^as her maternal mind with the un- 
avoidable cares and anxieties for the safety of 
her living children, that there was little room in 
it for regrets and vain thoughts about the dear 
ones that were lost and buried. 

Yet, deep, deep dowm in the secret recesses 
of her broken heart, there was a keen pang — a 
void, an aching void — wdiich wmuld have its 
W’ay, unbanished and unfilled by any of the 
conflicting, superficial calls of duty, and the 
stern, unfeeling demands of dire necessity. That 
same necessity compelled her to work, toil and 
labor, no matter how much her heart ached the 
w^hile. 

Mrs. SansoniTs cook was very kind to her; 
even more so than usual that morning ; she had 
waiting for her a very nice, hot breakfast, which 
she insisted she must eat, before she should see 
the sight of a washtub. Mrs. and Miss Sansonn 
thought of Minnie, early in the morning, and 
they both intended to go to her and inquire 
after her welfare, as soon as they could com- 
mand a few moments of leisure. But those 


194 We Four Yillagers. 

moments of leisure did not visit them that day. 
They were very busy with their preparations 
for leaving home, and as the hours of the day 
progressed, they did not find time even to think 
about her. 

When Tuesday’s ironing was accomplished, 
and Minnie was preparing to go home, Essie 
paid her the two days’ w^ages, and then said — 
The family is going out of town, to-morrow, 
to be gone two months ; but the house is to be 
kept open, and you are to come as usual to do 
the work, as they will send their things here by 
the railroad, to be washed and ironed.” 

This unexpected information was quite a re- 
lief, as she feared she was to lose her employ- 
ment at Mrs. Sansonn’s. Mrs. Naylore managed 
differently. She dismissed all her servants, and 
shut up her house ; hut, fortunately, she chose 
to entrust to Minnie the care of the keys of the 
house, and a direction to open and air it once a 
week, for which service she was to receive one 
dollar and fifty cents per week. So that Min- 
nie fared much better than do hundreds of other 
poor people, who, in Philadelphia, are every 
Summer thrown out of employment by their 
rich patrons going out of town, to remain away 
until t’all. Yet, the same rich patrons are very 


We Four Villagers. 


195 


often unreasonable enough to murmur against 
the improvidence of the poor, because they do 
not save a sufficiency during the Summer to 
supply their necessities through the next Winter, 
while the facts of their Summer’s experience, 
prove that they can scarcely earn enough to 
keep them from actual starvation. This Sum- 
mer — Minnie’s first Summer in the city — passed 
away, to her, very slowly ; the aching in her 
heart gave leaden ballast to the wings of 
Time, and he seemed to drag over her very 
drearily. She often sighed, with ardent wishes, 
to breathe once more the pure, fresh air of the 
open country. The close atmosphere of the 
narrow court stifled her. She desired very 
much to walk to the cemetery, to visit the grave 
of her buried Charlie and Harry. Though her 
youngest child was beginning to walk about the 
house, he was not able to walk all the way to 
the cemetery, and she was not able to carry 
him. She did not wish to leave him with Oli- 
mond and Isabel more than she could help. 
They did not get along very peaceably together. 
Almost every time she came home from her work, 
there were some bitter complaints from one or the 
other of these two children. The whole Sum- 
mer passed away, and she did not visit the grave. 


196 


We Foue Yillagees. 


On Saturday afternoons she used to take her 
children and her needle work, and spend a few 
hours in one of the public squares of the city ; 
there she watched them as they played and ran 
about on the gravel walks. May Heaven’s 
richest blessings ever rest upon the memory of 
those who planned, arranged and secured open, 
public squares in large cities ! And may the 
reverse ever follow those who would presum.e 
to curtail their number or their space ! 

These Saturday afternoon rambles, in the 
open squares, were the only pleasures or re- 
creations with which she or her children were 
ever favored. 

The remainder of their time, during the whole 
week, was spent in the warm and sultry court. 
On Sundays they never went out, because they 
could never afford to buy suitable clothing. 
How much Minnie wished, during those long. 
Summer Sundays, for the company of her two 
buried sons. They were always so bright and 
cheerful, so obedient, so thoughtful in all their 
little ways and habits, that they had ever been 
as bright sunbeams, shining through the mist of 
her domestic trials. As she thought of them and 
their untimely, early end, she found it very hard 
to cease mourning over their sudden loss. 


We Four Villagers. 107 

Her -husband did not mend his habits, but, as 
usual, in all similar cases, he rapidly proceeded 
from worse to worse. Thus the Summer wore 
away, and the cold, short days of dreary old 
Winter returned, to purify, with their keen, 
searching blasts, the atmosphere, and to chill, be- 
numb and congeal the inhabitants of the crowded 
city. The dwellers of the court were once more 
glad to huddle together, around their tiny stoves, 
in their small, narrow apartments. 

The Winter was a dull one, and even Mrs. 
Bridd found she had great difficulty in keeping 
herself and only one child supplied wdth the 
necessaries of life. Yet she managed to attend 
church, and to send George to Sunday school ; 
but he was, at last, sadly in wmnt of a cloth 
cap and a pair of new shoes. Two or three 
Sundays passed a\vay, without her being able 
to procure them. On these Sundays, George 
made his appearance in school, with his toes 
peeping intrusively from beGveen the soles 
and uppers of his shoes. Some how, the same 
neatly stockinged toes wmuld not stay within the 
decent space into wffiich he tried hard to cramp 
them ; the same toes were very obstinate, and 
would persist in peeping out. His cap, too, 
\vas full of holes ^ Mrs. Bridd had mended and 
17 


198 


We Four Yillagers. 


mended them, until the rents would not stay 
mended any longer ; hut that did not matter 
so much, as George could and did stow his cap 
away in his pocket during school and church 
time. At last, his teacher noticed his troubles, 
and spoke of them to his sister, who belonged 
to a Dorcas society, and between them, they 
obtained a new cloth cap and a pair of new 
shoes for Master George Bridd. 

The teacher carried them to him on Saturday 
evening, and asked him — 

How do you like them, my son ?” 

0, very much, indeed, sir ! and I am sure I 
do thank you a thousand times for them.” 

Just then, a bright thought seemed to strike 
the fancy of the grateful boy. He looked as if 
he wanted to say something to his teacher, but 
was too timid to speak it out freely. At last 
Mrs. Bridd noticed the difficulty under which 
he seemed to be laboring, and she said to him — 

‘^What is it, George, you are thinking of 
now, my boy? ’tis something more than com- 
mon, I know, by the twdnkle in your bright, 
black eyes.” 

^Wes, mother, I am thinking of something 
quite uncommon, and I wonder wdiy I never 
thought of it before.” 


We Four Yillagers. 


199 


Well; speak out; and let us hear what it is.” 

‘^1 am afraid my teacher will think I am very 
troublesome; if I do.” 

Do not think so badly as that of mO; my 
dear George. I do not think you can he trouble- 
some to mO; unless you wdll refuse to tell me 
this uncommon secret. Have I not often told 
you not to he afraid to speak freely to me ?” 

YeS; sir; very often.” 

‘‘ Then; why don't you now ?” 

I waS; sir; thinking if you could give my 
neighbor; Olimond MalverS; a cap and a pair of 
new shoeS; like these you have given me, I 
could bring him to school to-morrow; for his 
mother has just finished a suit of clothes for 
him, that she has pieced together out of those 
of his two dead brothers. But he has neither 
cap nor shoes, and she cannot buy any, because 
she is too poor. I wmuld like to have him go 
with me very much, sir. He is as old as I am, and 
has never been inside of any kind of a school.” 

^^Do you think; George, he would come to 
school if he had them ?” 

Yes, sir, I am sure he would ; because he is 
very sorry he cannot go with me, and he wants 
to learn very much ; indeed he does.” 

Where does he live ?” 


200 


We Fouk Yillagees. 


Right opposite to us, in this court.” 

The teacher then asked several other ques- 
tions about Olimond Malvers, at the end of 
which he took a narrow strip of paper from his 
, pocket, and told George to take the measure of 
Olimond’s head and foot. 

About an hour afterwards, the teacher, guided 
by the delighted George, walked into Minnie’s 
house, and presented Olimond the new shoes 
and ‘cap, on condition he would attend Sunday 
school with George. 

Two families were rendered Inappy by those 
simple little presents. Olimond attended Sun- 
day school a few years, but he did not learn as 
fast as George did. With George, to study was 
the delight of his life, and he was never con- 
tented away from his books. 

About the middle of the Winter, Olimond and 
Isabel disagreed so much, and annoyed their 
mother so frequently by their violent quarrels, 
that she, at last, felt afraid to leave them to- 
gether in the house during her forced absence 
from it. She therefore resolved to send Oli- 
mond to week-day school, to keep him away 
from home. 

She Vvent to the nearest public school, to have 
his name entered as a candidate for a seat. 


We Four Villagers. 


201 


The teacher told her that she would put his 
name on the list, hut she did not believe she 
could make room to receive him before the 
Spring. 

Mrs. Malvers was then greatly perplexed, 
and did not know how to manage. As usual, 
she appealed to Mrs. Bridd for advice, and that 
kind neighbor said — 

Yes, that is always the way with these pub- 
lic schools ; they are so full of rich people’s 
children, that poor people’s are crowded out.” 

What shall I do with him ?” 

^^He is a big boy for his age, and very steady.” 

0, yes, he is all that.” 

He can read a little, can he not ?” 

^^Yes.” 

“ I suppose he can read enough to make out 
the words on the signs and finger-boards on the 
streets ?” 

^•Yes, Mrs. Bridd, he can read that much 
very well ; you know, George has been teaching 
him all Winter.” 

George is a good boy. He knows his 
figures, too, does he not ?” 

Yes, pretty w’-ell ; thanks, too, for that to 
George.” 

I think he will answer. As I was coming 
17 '^ 


202 


We Four Yillagers. 


up the street this morning, I read, in a shop 
window, boy wanted.’ Now, if it is only 
an errand boy they want, I don’t see wdiy our 
Olimond would not suit them as well as many 
another boy, who might be older, but not half as 
steady. Suppose we go down together and see 
about it.” 

^•Ilad w^e not,” said Mrs. Malvcrs, ^Mjetter 
take him with us ?” 

Yes ; tell him to be very clean, and to be- 
have his prettiest.” 

They all w^ent dowm the street together, and 
finally, the result of their triple visit w^as, that 
Olimond was hired at a dollar a w^eek, to be 
errand boy in the front W' are-room of a large 
fancy tin-ware manufactory. lie there behaved 
himself very steadily, and gave his employers 
very good evidence of his usefulness. 

A few w^eeks after that, another sad bereave- 
ment befell the domestic circle of our unfortu- 
nate Minnie. While she was aw^ay from home, 
wmshing at Mrs. Sansonn’s, the clothes of her 
youngest child caught fire. Isabel and the 
other children became so much frightened, that 
instead of trying to extinguish the flames of the 
burning raiment, they opened the front door, 
and ran, screaming for help, into the court. 


203 


We Four Yillagers. 

By the time the neighbors reached the suffer- 
ing infant^ it was so badly burned, that it died 
that night. This sad misfortune so worked on 
Minnie’s feelings that she was sick — too sick to 
leave her bed for several days. The remains of 
the burned child were deposited in the same 
grave with its brothers. They were interred 
without much ceremony, and as quietly as 
possible. Mrs. Malvers did not follow them 
to the ground. She was too ill to leave her 
bed. 

Mrs. Sansonn and Mrs. Naylore, through Mrs. 
Bridd, defrayed the very moderate expenses of 
the humble funeral. They also sent a physician 
to attend Minnie. lie told them she must have 
perfect rest a few weeks, or she would sink 
under the weight of her accumulated afflictions 
and fatigues of mind and body. 

These two ladies then, for the first time, 
visited Minnie. They took quite a fancy to 
Isabel, who was a bright looking child. They 
told her mother they had a friend who wanted 
to hire a little girl, and they thought that Isabel 
would suit her very well. 

After talking over the subject a few days, 
Isabel went to live at her first jilace. The 
lady, Mrs. Loons, liked her very well, and she 


204 : 


We FoUE y ill AGEES. 


liked the lady, so that they went on together 
very comfortably. 

Minnie did not recover sufficient strength all 
that winter to be able to go out to wash and 
iron. Merton had been absent from home a 
whole week before the death of the babe, and 
he did not return until four weeks after it. 
When he did come home, he was too much 
under the influence of alcohol to miss either it 
or Isabel. The day after his return he was 
sober, and then asked for them. 

When told where they both were, he sullenly 
said, for all he could see, there were enough of 
the crowd left yet. 

Minnie remained very feeble nearly all the 
time. Now it was that her long hidden jewelry, 
piece by piece, went into the hands of different 
dealers, to keep her little ones from starvation. 

Olimond’s earnings did not more than keep 
him in shoes and clothes. Isabel, also, earned 
only her own keeping. Neighbors were kind, 
and often sent her a loaf of bread, a drawing of 
tea, or some other article of food, that helped 
her very nicely. Mrs. Sansonn sent her a load 
of coal, and Mrs. Naylore paid her medicine 
bills. But all these aids and many acts of kind- 
ness, so opportunely and acceptably bestowed. 


We Four Yillagees. 


205 


though they prevented her and her children 
from suffering with cold and hunger, would not 
pay her month’s rent. That had to be given in 
ready cash, and very hard it was to get it to- 
gether in time. Here, again, her highly prized 
jewels were applied to for relief. But, being 
sold, as they were, at an immense sacrifice, they 
did not last long. 

As Spring opened, Minnie again rallied ; her 
strength returned enough to work about her 
own home, but she was not able to go out to 
wash. Mrs. Sansonn and Mrs. Nay lore then 
interested themselves for her amopg their 
friends, with so much success, that they pro- 
cured plain needle work for her from several 
families. At this work she made out to keep 
her family from actual suffering, and also to pay 
her rent. 

Again the Summer rolled over the city, with 
its heated air, and its burning rays of a cloud- 
less sun. And here her supply of needle work 
was lessened almost to nothing, because her cus- 
tomers were nearly all out of toAvn. She then 
procured some washing and ironing to be done 
at her OAvn home. This work secured her the 
means of procuring food, but it did not suffice to 
pay the rent. She Avas noAV unable to collect 


206 


We Four Yillagers. 


any money for that purpose ; all she earned was 
swallowed in the support of the table. When 
the landlord called, on the first day of August, 
she had not one single dollar to give him. He 
was very much out of patience with her, and 
said if she did not pay him before the end of 
the next week, he wmuld put her goods out of 
the house. Minnie was in great distress when 
she heard him make that threat. 


CHAPTEE XXI. 

A KIND PHYSICIAN. 

The end of the next w^eek came, and she had 
not the money to pay the landlord’s bill. Find- 
ing she could not pay it, he sent a constable, 
who put her goods on the court pavement, bolted 
and locked the house very securely, put the 
keys in his pocket, and walked away. 

When Mrs. Bridd came home from her early 
morning walk, she found them all there — chil- 
dren, mother and furniture — huddled together 
in a heap of sorrowful confusion. She was so 
much out of patience with the landlord, who 


We Four Villagers. 


207 


also owned her house^ that she vowed she would 
not live another day in one of his dwellings. 
She then said to Minnie — 

Mrs. Malvers^ as I was coming along 
Eighteenth street, past Pearl, I saw a house to 
let in Pearl street. • If you will live with me 
in the two third story rooms, you may have 
them for two dollars per month, and we will all 
move out of this narrow, warm court. Biddy 
Magoony is to he married on next Sunday, and 
she will take the two rooms on the second floor.” 

Minnie was very glad to find a place of refuge 
so easily. Mrs. Bridd at once rented the house 
in Pearl street, which, fortunately, did not need 
cleaning. When the month after their removal 
came to a close, the two dollars due from Minnie 
were not come-at-able. Fifty cents Avas all the 
cash she could command. She gave it to Mrs. 
Bridd, who said, very good naturedly — 

Well, never mind this time; we Avill hope 
for better success next month.” 

She then collected the required sum from 
some of her rich customers, Avho were always 
ready to help her in the time of need, because 
they kneAv she Avas honest and industrious. 
Biddy AA^as married to a steady young car- 
penter, and he paid his rent very punctually. 


208 


We Fouk Yillageks. 


In October, Minnie’s needle work customers 
employed her to do their Winter’s sewing, and 
she progressed more comfortably. On the first of 
November, Merton ate his breakfast, apparently 
as well as usual, which was as well as could be 
expected in a man of his evil habits. By this 
time, his dissipation was making sad inroads on 
his constitution. After having eaten his break- 
fast, he started on his way to work. AVhen he 
had proceeded about half a square, he fell on the 
pavement, in a state of insensibility. Some of 
the witnesses of his fall knew him ; they, with 
the assistance of others, carried him home, and 
put him on his bed. 

Minnie covered him with bed-clothes, and 
then went on hurriedly with her sewing. She 
was so much accustomed to seeing him in a 
state of unconsciousness, that it did not alarm 
her in the least ; but as they carried him past 
Biddy’s room, she not being pre-occupied with 
any particular w^ork to engross her attention, 
was forcibly struck with his peculiar appearance. 
But not wishing to frighten his wife with her 
own ideas of his case, she did not communicate 
her impressions to any one. 

At about ten o’clock, Mrs. Bridd returned 
home from her morning’s sales; then Biddy 


We Foue Yillagees. 


209 


told her the fears she felt regarding Mr. Mai- 
vers’ appearance. She at once went to Min- 
nie’s room to inquire after him. 

I think,” said Minnie, he will be better in 
a little while.” 

I will give him a look, at any rate.” 

Mrs. Bridd then went to his bed, and found 
he was looking very ghastly. She then said to 
Minnie — 

If he does not seem better when Olimond 
comes to his dinner, you had better send him 
after Dr. Nearest. It appears to me there is 
more ails him than usual.” 

The two women then busied themselves with 
their respective duties, without paying any more 
attention to Merton Malvers. When Olimond 
came home, and heard his father was sick, he 
finished his dinner in a hurry, and went to see 
him ; he was terrified at his appearance, and 
went, as fixst as his feet could carry him, to the 
office of Dr. Nearest. 

That gentleman did not merit the name of a 
good physician he was not willing to labor 
gratis for the relief of suffering humanity. 

He was not many minutes in Minnie Malvers’ 
small, third story back room, before he con- 
cluded that he was not in his proper element. 

18 


210 


We Four Villagers. 


Still, lie lingered a little while at the side cf the 
sick man, and pretended to make an examina- 
tion of his case ; then turning towards Olimond, 
he said, very politely — 

^^This will be a lingering case, and I will 
not have time to attend it properly; you had 
better call in Dr. Newday, on Seventeenth 
street.” 

Olimond went at once to the office of Dr. 
Newday, who was out, and not expected home 
until two o’clock. lie left directions that he 
should call to see his father as soon as possible. 
The person who received his message, wrote the 
words, as soon as possible,” under his name, 
in a cramped hand, which made them almost in- 
visible, and they were not noticed by the doctor 
when he examined his slate. 

Dr. Newday was employed by the county, to 
attend people who were too poor to fee a medi- 
cal adviser. The sum he received was so small, 
that it kept him almcst as poor as his patients ; 
and he was exerting himself very anxiously to 
obtain as much better practice as he could. 
When he returned to his home, that day, it was 
three o’clock. He was as hungry as he dare be, 
with his narrow income, and his first movement 
Avas a dive into his little dining-room. When 


We Four Villagers. 


211 


his dinner was removed, lie amused himself 
sometime in watching the noisy play of his little 
children. He was tired ; had walked far, and 
felt in no hurry to renew his out-door duties. 
When, at last, he did take his slate in hand, he 
found on it cjuite a list of names ; and very 
sorry he was, to see they all belonged to poor 
people, which he knew by their residences. 

He did not notice the fanciful looking little 
flourish below Merton’s name, which he should 
have read — as soon as possible he therefore 
went on regularly in his visits, through the list 
on the slate, as he conscientiously practised 

the first come first served” principle. By the 
time he reached Merton Malvers’ case, it was 
long after five o’clock. He wrote a prescrip- 
tion, and told Minnie to send it to the Dis- 
pensary, where she could obtain the required 
medicine without paying for it. He then ordered 
mustard plasters to be applied on the back of 
his neck and ankles. As Minnie had no mus- 
tard in the house, she required it from the Dis- 
pensary, as well as the medicine. 

Although Dr. Newday daily met with every 
variety of human misery, his heart was not 
hardened by the contact ; on the contrary, his 
feelings were very much interested in the wel- 


212 


We Fouk Yillageks. 


fiire of his patients ; and he now felt very sorry 
he had not seen his new charge at an earlier 
hour. His case was now so far advanced^ that 
he could not hope he would ever recover from 
its effects. He saw, also, that Minnie was, in 
reality, suffering more than her husband was, 
and she would, he knew, very soon be in bed, 
under his care. 

Long sorrow^, incessant toil and meagre living, 
were working out their natural effects, as merci- 
lessly upon her physical strength, as the demon 
of the still was doing on that of the other 
patient. 

When Olimond came home, at about half-past 
six o’clock, before eating his supper, he started 
on his way to the Dispensary. He passed at 
least a dozen nearer drug-stores, but to them he 
dared not apply, because he had not the money 
to pay for the things he wanted. 

When he arrived at the distant depot of pills 
and powders,” there were there before him at least 
half a dozen other seekers of the means of re- 
lief, for it was a busy hour of the day in the store. 
The assembled customers were all like Olimond, 
recently released from the services of the day, 
which they rendered, at poorly paid wages, to 
perhaps rich and money making employers. 


We Four Yillagers. 


213 


Olimond was kept waiting a long time before 
he was attended to by one of the busy boys be- 
hind, the counter. When he at last returned 
home, Biddy’s husband kindly volunteered his 
assistance in turning Merton on the bed, before 
and after applying the mustard plasters. About 
fifteen minutes after they were on, the patient 
began to breathe more naturally, and improve 
in his appearance. Minnie then offered him a 
spoonful of medicine. With great difficulty he 
made out to swallow it. Biddy’s husband, 
Jabez Underwey, remained with him until two 
o’clock in the morning, and gave him his medi- 
cine very faithfully. At that hour Biddy took 
his place in the sick room, while he sought in 
sleep, the rest which he needed to be prepared 
for his next day’s labors. 

The next morning, when Dr. Newday called, 
he found Merton decidedly improving, although 
he was still speechless, and incapable of moving 
either hand or foot. In this condition he lin- 
gered several weeks, and week after w^eek Min- 
nie grew more and more feeble, until, at last, 
she was too sick to leave her bed. Then it was 
that young Dr. Newday manifested his active 
benevolence. His wife was a distant relative of 
a rich and influential family. One evening, he 
18 * 


214 


We Four Villagers. 


paid that family a long visit, and talked to them 
of Minnie’s hopeless and helpless destitution so 
effectively, that, in the course of a few days, 
there was, in their circle of intimate friends, 
quite an interesting excitement raised in her 
favor. Calls from richly dressed ladies, followed 
by servants, bearing baskets of donations of the 
creature comforts of life, so abundantly poured 
on her, that Minnie felt as if she was suddenly 
transported from the city of starvation to the 
land of plenty. 

Biddy, seeing all these nicely dressed ladies 
going past her room door to visit Minnie, re- 
solved not to let their bounty surpass hers. She 
magnanimously gave up her own neatly and 
newly furnished best room to Minnie for her 
own private use, in which to receive her numer- 
ous high-quality calls. She cramped herself and 
husband in the best way she could, fr6 tem., in 
her smaller back room. 

The ladies hired a kind and professional 
nurse for Minnie, paid her the current and next 
month’s rent in advance, and also engaged to 
give her four dollars a week for the maintenance 
of her family. On the eighteenth day of De- 
cember, another daughter Avas born unto Merton 
and Minnie Malvers ; and she was the little bud 


We Fouk Villagers. 215 

of humanity which I found lying on her lap 
when I was so unexpectedly and strangely con- 
ducted to her presence. 


CHAPTEE XXII. 

POOR RELATIONS. 

When I returned to my sister^ Mrs. Janes, I 
found her alone in the sitting-room, and I said — 

0, Sister Ann ! I have found Cousin Merton 
Malvers, and his dear little wife, Minnie ; but 
0 ! they are so poor that they are actually de- 
pendent upon charity for a living !’' 

Cousin ! Cousin Merton, indeed ! You may 
cousin him if you like, Mrs. Dolly Dorane ; I 
will not.” 

Not cousin him ? Why, I am sure we al- 
ways did, ever since he first came to see us at 
Silveryville.” 

0, yes ! we did then, because we were giddy 
young girls, and did not care what we did.” 

I do not see. Sister Ann, that our being a 
few years older, can possibly change our rela- 
tionship to him.” 


216 


We Foue Yillageks. 


Dorothy Dorane, I say we are not his 
relations ; at least not in my estimation ; let me 
see — how was it ? Ilis great grand-father was 
our great grand-mother’s second cousin. Now, if 
you will call that being related, there will be no 
end to the long strings of relations ; every body 
will be constantly claiming to every body else, 
among all the kindreds of the earth. I do 
hope you will never mention him as ^our cousin’ 
before Mr. Janes ; he is very particular about 
such matters ; and if he thought we were cousin- 
ing with a beggared inebriate, he would never 
recover from the effects of it.” 

I wish. Sister Ann, you would go see Minnie 
Malvers ; will you go ?” 

Yes, perhaps I will, some time when it may 
be convenient; I cannot go to-day. I would 
like well enough to see Minnie. I always liked 
her. I believe every body does. But I could 
never bear that Merton Malvers, ever since he 
pushed himself into the Emgreen family against 
their will It was mean in him, and he did it 
only because he was too lazy to make his own 
fortune. I am not sorry he has come to want ; 
but poor Minnie ! I do pity her.” 

^^Well, then, dear Sister Ann, do go see her. 
She has a beautiful babe, only ten days old. 


We Foue Yillageks. 


217 


She looks so weak and so pale, I don’t think she 
will ever be well again. Do go see her very 
soon.” 

I began this conversation, fondly hoping I 
could prevail on my sister to join me in raising 
a small sum of money, regularly every month, 
towards Minnie’s support. But the Avay in 
which she treated our relationship to Merton 
disappointed me on that subject, and I was 
obliged to relinquish it. 

On my way from Minnie’s house I had fool- 
ishly argued myself into believing that the lady 
who was so generously liberal of her money, as 
to force a new silk dress and cloth cloak on a 
sister who did not need them, would certainly 
aid, quite materially, towards the support of a 
cousin, to prevent his wife being dependent 
upon the charity of strangers. But I was mis- 
taken in my judgment of her benevolence, and 
took another tack, which was to try to induce 
her to visit Minnie — see her destitute situation, 
and her bright looking children — hoping, if she 
saw them, she would feel an interest in their 
welfare, and endeavor to better their circum- 
stances. 

By the time the Christmas vacation expired, 
I returned to my own home. Mr. Janes re- 


218 


Wfi Foue Yillagees 


inained in the city. When the Administration 
changed, and he lost his office, he went into 
commercial engagements, by which he made 
money very fast. But I fear the more he 
makes the more he grasps it. Sister Ann never 
called on Minnie. I forgot the number of the 
house she lived in, and she would not undertake 
to find it without knowing it. Being a sub- 
tenant, her name was not in the directory ; for 
the same reason, she never received a letter 
from me. 

When Minnie’s babe, which she named Bose 
Bridd, was four weeks old, Minnie’s health was 
improved, and the doctor said he thought she 
might dispense with the services of a nurse. 

After awhile, the ladies who had been so 
warmly interested in her comfort gradually 
ceased to visit her, and then Minnie left kind 
Biddy’s neat, front room, and returned to her 
own more cheerless one in the third story. 
Merton, by this time, was so far rbcovered as 
to be able to eat and speak freely, and to move 
one arm and one foot 3 the others were still 
helpless. 

Minnie, having her young babe and sick hus- 
band to take care of, could earn very little with 
her needle. The ladies who had done so much 


We Four Yillaoers. 


219 


for her at one time, as to almost overwhelm her 
with their kind and well-timed charity, w^ere 
now tired of assisting her, and were spending 
their means and their benevolence in other 
channels. 

Mrs. Bridd, at last, without consulting Min- 
nie’s will or wishes on the subject, applied for 
her relief, to the guardians of the poor. They 
gave her one dollar per w’eek in money, and 
one dollar’s wmrth of groceries. 

The Winter and Spring passed away, and as 
the warm w- eather of Summer increased, the suf- 
ferings of Merton Malvers grew in amount with 
it. He could not turn himself in bed, and when 
oppressed with the fatigue and heat of lying 
long in one position, he would become very im- 
patient, and formed the habit of giving vent to 
his feelings by kicking his one moveable foot 
against the bed-post. In this violent exercise, 
so often repeated, he rubbed the skin from his 
ankle, until it became very sore and painful. 
Finally, his foot gave him more trouble than 
any other part of his illness. Then his anger 
amounted to almost frantic exclamations. Not 
being able to sleep at night, he spent his time 
in making terrifying noises, so that he disturbed 
not only his own household, but also his more 


220 We Four Yillagers. 

distant neighbors. Some of these, at last, called 
on him one morning, and told him if he did not 
stop making such frightful noises at night, they 
would immediately have him taken to the alms- 
house. This threat had an effectual influence ; 
and, after it was made, he always kept quiet 
during the night. He evidently had a great 
horror of going to the alms-house; but during 
the day, while his male neighbors were absent 
from their homes, attending to their daily toils, 
he kept the Avhole house and neighborhood in 
an agony, by making his hideous noises. 

The complaints made to him on the subject, 
by his female neighbors, he treated with cold 
contempt. These daily disturbances he con- 
tinued making until the middle of August. 

About this time, a self constituted committee 
waited on Mrs. Bridd, and told her, if she did 
not remove that terrific lodger to some other 
place, they would report her house to the land- 
lord as a public nuisance. 

Mrs. Bridd was rejoiced to hear this threat, 
and thanked them very sincerely for having 
made it, as she was even more worried by her 
lodger than they were. She had, for some 
time, been thinking that the alms-house was the 
proper place for him, yet she never ventured to 


We Foue Yillagees. 


221 


name the subject to Minnie, as she knew it 
would pain her exceedingly. 

But now it was plainly and unavoidably her 
duty to have him taken there, to prevent her 
own and his family from being turned out of the 
house. 

As soon as the volunteer committee left her, 
she went to Minnie’s room, and said, in a whis- 
per — she did not want Merton to hear her — 

^^Do you know what a large visit I had just 
now, down stairs ?” 

No,” said Minnie ; I did not hear any 
visitors. Between the clamors of the baby, and 
the still worse cries of her father, I cannot hear 
anything, beyond these two rooms.” 

Sure enough ! their voices are enough to 
drive you distracted ; and I dare say, if the 
father would be quiet, the baby would not be 
half as cross as she is ; she would sleep better, 
for she cannot now get half as much sleep as 
she needs ; and that is why she cries so much.” 

There is no doubt of that, Mrs. Bridd. If 
he only would be quiet ! I have an idea that 
we might bribe him to be still, by offering some 
strong drink. I sometimes feel tempted to try the 
experiment ; and would, if I had money plenty.” 

I would not, my good friend ; he has too 
19 


222 


We Foue Yillagees. 


much strong drink in his system already. I 
would not give him one drop, even if I had pos- 
session of Girard’s estate.” 

I don’t think it would be wrong to give him 
liquor as a medicine ; and if it would quiet him, 
it seems to me, it would be doing the part of a 
very good medicine.” 

I do not believe that alcohol should be used, 
even as a medicine, as long as any other remedy 
will produce the desired effect.” 

^^Yes, but there is the difficulty, dear Mrs. 
Bridd ; there is no other remedy in this case.” 

I think I can find a better one ; I am sorry, 
on your account, to be obliged to use it.” 

What is your remedy, Mrs. Bridd ? you are 
so good in all your ways, that what ever it is, it 
must be good if it comes from you ” 

Unfortunately, this remedy is not my own ; 
but it was most positively ordered to be given 
him, by the visitors who called on me a few 
minutes ago.” 

Minnie then began to suspect what the remedy 
was, and she wrung her hands in silent anguish 
a few moments, then said : — 

Poor Merton ! your days on earth will very 
soon be numbered. Mrs. Bridd, he never will 
be restored to health in that place.” 


We Four Yillagers. 


223 


Will he here T 

Perhaps he will.” 

“ He will not. At least,, not for a long while ; 
and I believe he will be more comfortable there 
than he is here, in many respects.” 

That may be.” 

It must be, Mrs. Malvers, for there he will 
have men nurses ; and they can manage him 
much better than you can.” 

But the idea of sending him there is very 
heart-rending.” 

Mrs. Malvers, can we live on ideas ?” 

I guess we wmuld find them unsubstantial.” 

Of course we would, even if they were good 
ones ; but bad ones would be still more so.” 

^^Now, the idea that it is heart-rending to go 
to the alms-house is very silly, and, in many cases, 
a very sinful idea. It has often driven many 
poor, homeless creatures to commit very wficked 
crimes. The neighbors, dear Mrs. Malvers, have 
told me that if he is not removed, they will re- 
port this house a public nuisance. If they do 
that, we will all be turned out ; then where will 
we go ?” 


CHAPTEE XXIII. 


Merton’s forced and last removal. 

The next mornings Mrs. Bridd went to the 
office of the guardians of the poor, and obtained 
all necessary directions how to manage Merton’s 
removal to the alms-house. 

Knowing, as they did, the opposition he 
would feel, no one dared mention the subject 
to him. Neither did they allow any of his 
children to know it, fearing they might talk 
about it in his hearing. 

The preparations were all made without his 
knowledge. When the men who were to carry 
him down stairs entered his room, he looked at 
them very fiercely, and said — 

What do you w^ant in here, strangers ?” 

^WYe want to take you an airing,” said one of 
their number ; the doctors say a little ride will 
do you good.” 

He suspected what their object was, and said — 
Hang all the doctors in the city ! I never 
asked them for their opinion. I don’t want to 
go riding, and what is more, I will not.” 


We Four Villagers. 


225 


As lie said these words, he wound his left 
arm tightly around the head-post of the bed- 
stead, and looked at the men defiantly. 

The men expected to meet resistance, and 
had come in sufficient numbers to conquer any 
amount without difiiculty. One of them said 
to him, very gently — 

^^JSTow, look here, Mr. Malvers, we have come 
here as your friends ; and if you will take our 
advice and go with us willingly, we will do you 
no harm ; but if you resist us, we will swear you 
are crazy, and we will carry you by force into a 
dark, gloomy cell, with other madmen.” 

Seeing there was no help for him, the miser- 
able victim of intemperance knit his brow, grit 
his teeth, and in his parched heart he uttered 
wishes, not loud but deep,” on the heads of all 
the inhabitants of the earth. For the sake of 
guarding his very sore ankle, he was compelled 
to submit quietly to their superior strength, and 
allow them to carry him down stairs. 

Poor Minnie could not witness the removal. 
As soon as the men entered the house, she threw 
herself upon the bed, in the front room, and 
wept convulsively, until she heard his depar- 
ture up the street. 

She felt and knew that he would never, never 
19 * 


226 


We Fouk Yillagees. 


return. How she lamented over this hitter, 
bitter end to all the fond hopes and affections 
which, at one time, had centred in her be- 
loved Merton Malvers.” 

What years of agony and suffering he had 
led her through, in return for all her early love 
to him ! And why did he lead her to such 
prolonged agony, to such intense suffering ? 

Why was he not to her what Mr. Emgreen 
had ever been to his wife ? As many other men 
are to their wives ? What Mrs. Bridd’s husband 
had been to her — a guide, a guardian — the best 
of all earthly domestic blessings ? Ah ! why was 
he not ? What made him so different from what 
he once was ? So different from all she had hoped 
he would become to her ? Why was it ? Ah ! why ? 

Because, for the love of gain, his fellow men — 
men ! can they be men ? — enticed him to drink 
the liquid fire which so often burns up, destroys 
and consumes all that is noble, good and lovely 
in human beings.” 

Ah ! in all this wide, wide world,” in which 
there ever dwell every degree and kind of 
human sufferings, there are none so hopeless as 
the sorrows of the drunkard’s wufe. 

When the front door Avas closed on Merton 
Malvers, and his bearers, Biddy and Mrs. Bridd, 


We Fouk Yillageks. 227 

went to Minnie, and they said and did all they 
could think of to comfort her. 

Mrs. Malvers, dear neighbor, do not grieve 
so after your husband,” said Mrs. Bridd ; it is 
really much better he should be there than 
here ; it is better for him, for you, and for your 
children.” 

0, Mrs. Bridd ! how can you say so ?” 

Because I believe it.” 

You would not if he was the father of your 
own children. Nothing would induce you to 
send George there.” 

Yes, I would, if he was sick, and I had no 
way of keeping him.” 

There are many people there,” said Biddy, 
whose relations don’t fret about it at all.” 

To be sure there are ; and they ought,” said 
Mrs. Bridd, ^^to be thankful to have them so 
well cared for.” 

0,” said Minnie, I don’t see how you can 
talk so !” 

You may depend, Mrs. Malvers, we know 
more about it than you do.” 

I know I would rather have followed him 
to his grave.” 

That is not a proper feeling.” 

0, there are so many bad people over there !” 


228 


We Fouk Yillageks. 


That is true ; there are plenty of them 
everywhere. If we want to escape them we 
must go to the grave. They are thick and full 
here, at our very doors.” 

They will try all manner of experiments on 
him, and only make him w^orse.” 

How do you know they will ?” 

They always do.” 

Come, come now, cheer up ; and after a few 
days we will pay him a visit, and see how he 
likes his new home.” 

Why, can we ?” 

To he sure we can. Biddy will take care 
of your children while we go ; will you not, Mrs. 
Biddy?” 

To he sure I will ; and ye may stay as long 
as ye like.” 

But we would never he able to find it.” 

If we go on Saturday, we can take George for 
our guide ; he can find any place in the county.” 

Gradually, Minnie’s mind was diverted from 
mourning over the sorrows of her blighted life, 
by thinking of the intended visit to her husband. 
Shut up, as she had been, so many long, weary 
months, the trip, if not one of pleasure, w^as one 
of useful change to her feeble frame, and quite 
as much so to her sorrowing mind. 


■\Ye Four Villagers. 


229 


When Olimond was told w^here his father 
was, he was deeply afflicted. It was very sad 
to see one as young as he was, so bitterly, 
so keenly moved with heartfelt sorrow. He 
thought it was a disgrace, and therefore a more 
than common misfortune. Had his father been 
dead, he would not grieved more than he did. 

On Isabel, the news of her father’s removal 
had very little effect. She was, by this time, 
more interested in the affairs of Mrs. Loon’s 
household, than she was in those of her mother’s 
family. Olimond’s grief was permanent. He 
was peculiarly sensitive in his feelings, and 
seemed to thirst after the approbation of his 
friends and neighbors. He gave so much satis- 
faction to his employers, that they increased 
his Avages to two dollars a Aveek, and promised 
to make them still higher at the end of the year. 
They Avere then to take him as an apprentice, 
and instruct him in the useful trade of manufac- 
turing fancy and fine tiivAvare. 

When Isabel found Olimond’s Avages had been 
increased, she became ambitious of being favored 
in a similar manner. One day, as she Avas pay- 
ing her customary visit home, she said — 

Mother, I think I have worked long enough 
for my food and raiment. The baker’s wife, of 


230 


We Four Yillagers. 


whom I sometimes buy cakes for Mrs. Loons, 
says she would be willing to give me seventy- 
five cents a week. With them I think I could 
buy better clothes than I now wear.” 

You do not know anything about buying 
clothes, or you would not think so. They would 
scarcely keep you in bonnets and shoes.” 

Do you think so, mother ?” 

I know it.” 

At any rate, whether it would or not, I 
think I am big enough to earn wages.” 

So you are, if you can find any one willing 
to pay it.” 

I think Mrs. Loons would be willing, if you 
would ask her.” 

will come down soon, and talk to her 
about it. I wish she would send you to school 
instead of paying you wages. That would do 
you more good.” 

am sure I don’t, mother. The children 
would laugh at me ; I do not even know my 
letters. Why did you not send me when I was 
younger ?” 

^^For two very good reasons.” 

Please to tell me what they were ?” 

First, I could not afford to buy you decent 
clothes, and secondly, I could not spare you,” 


We Four Yillagers. 


231 


^^Mrs. Loons, I know, will say she cannot 
spare me now. She keeps me as busy all the 
time as you ever did ; and even if 1 wanted 
to go to school, I could not get a seat.” 

Yes, you could, by waiting.” 

The baker’s wife says she has been waiting 
more than six months for a seat for her child.” 

Soon after that, Mrs. Loons agreed to give 
Isabel fifty cents per week, provided she would 
give them to her mother. She considered Isabel 
quite too young to have the management of 
money, and that she was well enough dressed 
for a girl of her age. But Isabel was never 
sent to school by Mrs. Loons. 


CHAPTEK XXIY. 

THE POOR HOUSE. 

The poor house of Philadelphia county, often 
called Blockley, or Blockley Alms-house, con- 
sists of a magnificent collection of buildings, 
which stand on the West side of the river 
Schuylkill. They are surrounded by a farm, of 
about one hundred and eighty-seven acres. This 


232 We Four Villagers. 

farm is bounded on the East by the Schuylkill. 
The institution called the alms-house, consists 
of four main structures, each one of which 
measures five hundred feet in length. They 
are three stories high, are well built, of strong 
stone-masonry ; they stand on the four sides of 
a large yard. The main or front entrance of 
the establishment is adorned by an elegant and 
very stylish looking portico, facing the South- 
east, commanding an imposing and extensive 
view of the city of Philadelphia. This beauti- 
ful portico is built in the Tuscan order of archi- 
tecture, and contains six columns ; each column 
measures five feet diameter at the base, and 
thirty feet in altitude. 

When this building is viewed from the ex- 
terior, the beholder cannot help realizing that it 
is a monumental palace, erected for the comfort 
and shelter of the poor of the land, of whom it 
is written, they fail not.” Here they fail not 
to find a permanent and magnificent abiding 
place. 

This useful and benevolent institution is now — 
in the year 1861 — a department of the great 
consolidated city of Philadelphia. Its affairs 
are managed by a board of gentlemen, who are 
called the guardians of the poor. They consist 


We Four Yillagers. 


233 


of twenty-one members, and are elected annually 
by popular vote, in the first twenty and the 
twenty-fourth wards of the city, at the same 
time that the other city officers are elected. 

Poor people, from any part of the county, are 
freely admitted to this establishment, by obtain- 
taining an order from one of the guardians, at 
their office, in Seventh street above Market. 

There is a hospital for the sick, connected 
with the alms-house, which usually contains be- 
tween four and five hundred invalids. They 
have numerous nurses, male and female, em- 
ployed to attend them. There are, also, one 
chief and eight assistant physicians, residing 
near or in that part of the institution, who are 
paid by the guardians. There is also an asylum 
for children, in which there are constantly 
several hundred inmates, many of whom are 
diseased or deformed. 

The floors of the poor house, the tables and 
seats are all of plain, unpainted boards. They 
are kept very white by frequent scrubbing. 
Young women, of foreign birth, have been 
known to leave the institution in displeasure, 
and gone to service, in preference to living 
where they were so frequently occupied with 
scrubbing brushes. 

20 


234 


We Four Yillagers. 


In Watson s Annals of Philadelphia, we find 
the following notice of this useful institution : — 

The original poor house for the city, was 
located down towni, extending from Spruce to 
Pine streets, and from Third to Fourth streets. 
Its front was to the East, and nearest to Third 
street. Its great gate was on Sj^ruce, and its 
entrance by Third street was by a stile. The 
house was much such a structure"^' as that of the 
Friends alms-house, in Walnut street; it had a 
piazza all around. It contained the sick and 
insane as well as the poor. There Avere also 
some parts of the building formed near the corner 
of Union and Fourth streets, on the site now 
occupied as the premises of Dr. Physick, from 
Avhich cause, I find, in 1758, it was called the 
alms-house doAvn Fourth street, and the alms- 
house square. 

The present alms-house, out Spruce street, 
Avas begun in 1760, AA^as first occupied in 1767. 
f The square of nearly four hundred feet square, 
on Avhich the building stands, cost then but 
eight hundred dollars. Who can tell its rise of 
value since? It Avas then, hoAvever, quite a 
place in the country, and near the Avoods, 
having a fine orchard on the square on its 
northern front.” 


* A low, two storied brick building, 
t Between Ninth and Tenth, Spruce and Pine. 


We FoUK y ill AGEES. 


235 


This last named building was similar in size 
to the present — 18G1 — Penn Hospital on Pine 
street. In or about the year 1833; the institu- 
tion was removed to its present location; on the 
other side of the Schuylkill; to buildings more 
than four times larger than those which were 
commenced for it one hundred years ago. 

This was the abode to which ^Merton Malvers 
was so forcibly and reluctantly borne. 

" He was in a rage with his captorS; and if he 
had been gifted with one-half the ability he 
once possessed; he would have given them an 
abundance of unacceptable; tangible evidences 
of the state of his feelings. Not having the 
bodily strength to do that; he made up the de- 
ficiency by the magnitude of the hatred with 
which he looked on everything around him ; as 
he did so he said to himself — 

^H’ll fix them ; I have not the strength to fight 
them; the cowards;they know that; or they would 
not have dared to touch me ; but I’ll fix them ; 
I will not eat one 'morsel of food as long as they 
keep me here ; and when they see I will not 
eat; they will be glad to carry me away.” 

He formed this resolution the moment he 
entered the house; and he adhered to it most 
firmly. At first the nurses and the doctors per- 


236 


We Four Yillagers. 


suaded^ then reasoned with him on the folly of 
his course, hut he remained insensible to all 
their persuasions and reasonings. 

When he had been about three days in the 
institution, his wife and Mrs. Bridd paid him 
a visit. They carried with them some edibles, 
which they knew he was fond of. tie ate 
them very ravenously. No wonder; for he had 
not tasted one mouthful of solid food since his 
departure from home. He wdllingly drank the 
alms-house milk as often as they gave it to him ; 
but he would not taste the , tea or coffee. While 
Minnie was there he said to her, very ironically— 
The bread and butter here are elegant. I 
never tasted better.” 

Minnie knew nothing about his refusing to 
eat. The nurses would not tell her, because 
she looked so pale and weak. They thought it 
wmuld only Avorry her, without benefitting him 
or any one else. 

In about two Aveeks after his entrance to the 
alms-house, he died. The physician Avho had 
him in care, thought he died as much from Avant 
of food as from disease. 

When it Avas knoAvn to the officers of the 
house that he Avas dead, they sent a message to 
Minnie, stating that she could take aAvay his re- 


237 


We Four Villagers. 

mains for interment, if she wished to. But she 
was so much straitened for the means of pro- 
curing bread for her children, and for the pay- 
ment of her rent, that she could not afford to 
defray the expenses of a funeral. He was, 
therefore, buried in the unmarked and un- 
honored grave of a pauper ; because, while he 
lived, he chose to be the slave of tyrannical old 
King Alcohol. 

The following Winter, Mrs. Sansonn exerted 
herself in Minnie’s favor, and presented her a 
ton of coal ; prevailed on one of her relations to 
give her a barrel of flour, and another helped 
her with some bed-clothes and wearing apparel. 
These were acceptable blessings. On account 
of a distressing cough, and a severe pain in her 
side, she coull not earn as much by her needle 
as the necessities of her children demanded. 

^’everal years passed away. Olimond and 
Isabel remained in their respective places ; both 
their wages had been increased, and they formed 
the main support of the family. Their mother 
suffered so much from sickness, that she could 
earn very little in any way. 

All these years George Bridd was kept regu- 
larly and steadily at school by his kind mother, 
and he finally repaid her kindness, by becoming 
20 * 


238 


We Four Yillagers. 


a gi’aduate, with the highest honors, of the Phila- 
delphia High School. 

One of the directors of the public schools had 
formerly been George’s Sunday .school teacher ; 
he felt deeply interested in his welfare, and 
said to him one day, when he called to see him — 
What are you going to do when your school 
duties are closed ?” 

do not know, sir.” 

What would you like to do ?” 

“I would like to have a profession, if I had 
the means of procuring one ; but as I have not, 
I must go to work at whatever occupation I can 
find the soonest. I cannot think of allowing 
my mother to support me any longer. I must 
now live to support her. To do that well, sir, 
is my present most urgent desire.” 

I believe,” said the director, I can put 
you in a situation by which, if you are very in- 
dustrious and frugal, you will be able to support 
her, and also obtain your favorite profession.” 

George was so thankful that he could not 
speak ; he could only look his gratitude, and that 
he did very eloquently. 

“We will say no more about it,” said his 
friend, until we are a little more certain of not 
meeting with a disappointment regarding it. I 


We Four Villagers. 


239 


hope, in a few days, I will be able to give you 
more decided information on the subject.” 

At the end of two Aveeks, George Bridd re- 
ceived a note, containing the welcome informa- 
tion that he was duly appointed to a situation, 
in a village about thirty miles from Philadel- 
phia. He was required to give only six hours, 
daily, to his official duties. For his salary, he 
was to receive five hundred dollars a year. 

Mrs. Bridd was not half as much pleased 
with the contents of that note, as Master George 
was. She had never lived in the country, and 
did not think she would like it. But she could 
not think of being separated from him. 

He comforted her by the assurance that he 
did not expect to keep the place more than three 
years, at farthest. By that time, he hoped he 
would be through with his professional studies, 
and then be able to support her in the city, 
with more ease and comfort than she had en- 
joyed since the death of her husband. 

Mrs. Bridd was also very much grieved at 
the idea of parting with her good friends, Min- 
nie Malvers and Biddy Underwey. 

Mrs. Bridd and her son George, were to take 
up their abode in their new home on the first 
day of April. It was now the middle of March. 


240 


We Four Yillagers. 


Biddy and Minnie, and Biddy’s husband, held to- 
gether a consultation upon the interesting subject 
of their removal from their present dwelling-place. 

From some cause, known only to himself, 
Biddy’s husband, Mr. Jabez Underwey, did not 
like the location of the one they then occupied, 
and on the end of the consultation, it was de- 
cided by these three sub-tenants, that Jabez 
would rent a house somewhere, to suit his own 
wishes, and that Minnie would rent a couple of 
rooms from him. Jabez was being well pros- 
pered in his business. He was receiving very 
high wages, and he conceived the idea that Pearl 
street was not the proper place for his abode. 

A few days after the consultation, Jabez came 
home to his dinner, looking very much pleased. 
He said he had found a place which he believed 
would suit them all, as well as any they could 
expect to find in a month 

It was a neatly finished, new, two storied 
dwelling in Wood street. In the rear there 
was a three roomed back building of wood, 
very old, and much cracked ; still, it was tenant- 
able ; the roof did not leak, the window glazing 
was whole, and the timbers were still strong 
enough to prevent the fear of its falling down 
during the next half score of years. 


We Four Villagers. 


241 


Jabez proposed that he would rent the front 
part of this establishment, and that Minnie 
should take the frame back building. 

Th^ landlord was anxious to rent them both 
together, but would agree to let the two build- 
ings at the same time in this proposed plan. 
He saw that Jabez would be a desirable tenant, 
but it was his firm resolve never to rent one of 
his houses to any person who intended to have 
in it a sub-tenant. 

The rent of the back building was four dollars 
per month. About this time, Olimond’s and 
Isabel’s earnings were again increased, and 
therefore, Minnie concluded she might venture 
to undertake this increase in her monthly ex- 
penditure. Even if she had been ever so much 
afraid to venture, she did not see what else she 
could do. Biddy and Jabez Underwey had 
their hearts fixed upon the Wood street house. 
Circumstanced as she w^as, she could not leave 
home and run about in the cold winds of March 
to hunt a cheaper dwelling-place ; so she ven- 
tured to agree to the proposed removal. As 
she did it, she said to herself — 

We wdll have to live poorer, to save from 
our table expenses as much money as we can, 
to pay this increase in our rent.” 


242 


We Foue Till AGEES 


They moved into Wood street, into one room 
np stairs, and two others below. The first time 
Isabel visited her mother after the removal, she 
said to her — 

How nicely you have fixed up the old place ! 
Did Biddy help you, mother ?” 

Yes, a great deal ; and so did George and 
Mrs. Bridd. I don’t think I would have lived 
through the moving without their help.” 

They are very kind. Is it not very pleasant 
to have two rooms down stairs ?” 

“ Yes, very.” 

You can live like other folks, now, mother. 
You have the inner room so fixed up, that it 
looks quite like a parlor.” 

Not very parlorified, with this patched and 
darned old carpet on the floor.” 

Well,” said Isabel, ^Gf the carpet is patched, 
it is done so neatly that no one would ever 
notice it. It looks so bright and clean, mother ; 
did they wash it ?” 

^^No; they carried it to the vacant lot, and 
gave it a good, hard beating with sticks and 
broom-handles.” 

Isabel was very much pleased with the change 
of residence made by her mother. 


CHAPTEE XXY. 


NIGHT SCHOOL. 

Olimond, also^ appeared to be much better 
contented in Wood street than he had been in 
Pearl street, ever since the illness of his father. 
His earnings were now higher than they had 
ever been ; and by working until a late hour in 
the night, at over w^ork,” he was enabled to 
increase them very considerably. 

Minnie earned what she could by the use of 
her needle, and by dint of strict economy they 
got along very comfortably through the Spring. 
They made out to pay their rent, and live along 
through the Summer, some how; exactly the 
way how, was a mystery sometimes to even 
Minnie herself. In the Fall, Minnie’s health 
improved, and she was enabled to exert herself 
at her needle work ; her hands were soon full of 
it, and she often wished that Isabel could assist 
her with it. But Isabel was a miserable needle 
user. She had been as cruelly neglected in 
that branch of useful learning, as she had been 
in others. 


244 


We Foue Yillagees. 


By living more comfortably in Wood street 
than they had before done, and by being much 
praised by his employers, Olimond began to be 
uncommonly ambitious, and to wish to expe- 
rience still better and higher things. He now 
began to realize the great disadvantages under 
which he labored, by not being a better scholar 
than he was. 

Under the influence of these new impressions, 
he formed the determination of going to a night 
school for young men and women, which was 
then in successful operation in his new neighbor- 
hood. He attended it very regularly for a few 
weeks, and then became so much delighted with 
his studies, and the progress he made in them, 
that he formed, in his own mind, the wish to 
have Isabel go with him to the same, said night 
school. He called to see her one Sunday after- 
noon, and proposed that she should accompany 
him to his school, on the evening of the follow- 
ing day. 

cannot go, Olimond,” she said; ^^Mrs. 
Loons will never permit me to go out at night.” 

Not if I call for you and bring you home 
safe?” 

That would not make any difference. She 
will not leave me go, because I have to take 


We Four Villagers. 245 

care of the children, while the nurse sews in 
her room.” 

This statement of affairs made him feel sa^ly 
disappointed. That night, after having re- 
tired to his rest, he lay aAvake a long time, 
thinking over many plans by which he hoped 
he might succeed in having Isabel accompany 
him to school. He thought she had never 
looked so handsome as she had done that day, 
as he saw her standing in Mrs. Loons’ kitchen, 
occupied in washing the family dinner dishes. 

She is my sister,” he muttered to himself, 
and it is a shame to see her spending her whole 
life in that old kitchen, without ever learning 
how to read or write. I must try to get her out 
of it as soon as I can.” 

Olimond was then beginning to feel quite 
proud of his fair young sister, whom he had 
never seemed to love much when they were 
living together under the same roof. 

Soon after this, one of Olimond’s work-mates 
talked to him about his sister — not Olimond’s — 
but his own sister Mary ; he said she was able 
to earn five dollars per week by making silk 
fringe. This casual remark, made without much 
reflection, set his mind violently in motion, 
with the wish that his sister Isabel could imme- 
21 


246 


We Four Yillagers. 


diatcly learn the trade of fringe making. It 
was a pity he did not recognise the hict that 
the best and safest trade for a poor girl, in a 
large city, is the trade of being a good and indus- 
trious housekeeper. This is a trade that never 
fails, never gets out of fashion or out of date ; 
it always commands good wages, united with 
good boarding ; it is one that possesses fewer 
temptations than any other. This fact is too 
often forgotten by many young women, who 
crowd our city factories, where they often lose 
their health, or their reputation, or their em- 
ployment, then become miserable for the want 
of a home and a safe place of shelter. All these 
things were disregarded by Olimond ; all he did 
regard was, that Isabel should learn fringe 
making, and go with him to night school. 

That night, after Olimond had eaten his sup- 
per, and the other children were asleep, he un- 
burdened his mind to his mother, of this — to 
him — very important scheme of procuring for 
Isabel a night school education. After he had 
run on some time in its favor, his mother 
said — 

^^It would be very fine if Isabel could learn 
to read and write, and make fringe, and earn 
five dollars a week ; but I am afraid she will 


247 


We Foue Yillageks. 

always be a slow learner at anything. We had 
better leave her where she is.” 

A few days after this conversation between 
Oliniond and his mother^ Mr. Loons was fiitally 
injured by an accident in the street, and was 
carried home in a dying condition. He breathed 
his last before the dawn of another day. As the 
income on which his fimily had depended for 
their support, was lost by his death, Mrs. Loons 
was forced to move into a smaller house, and 
dismiss all her servants except one. The one 
she saw proper to retain, was not Isabel Mal- 
vers. 

These eventful changes seemed to favor Oli- 
mond’s plans and wishes about the fringe making 
and night school scheme. 

The day after Isabel’s return home from Mrs. 
Loons’ house, she applied for a situation at a 
silk fringe manufactory. After waiting a few 
weeks, she was admitted as a learner; and, ac- 
cording to contract with the loroprietors, she was 
to give them all her time and labor during the 
next several weeks, in payment for which they 
were to teach her the art of making silk fringe, 
in all its various branches. She began to learn 
about the middle of December, and was kept very 
hard at work from six o’clock in the morning 


248 


We Four Villagers. 


until the same time in the evening, excepting 
only one hour at noon. 

At half-past seven o’clock, during three even- 
ings in the week, she accompanied her brother 
Olimond to the night school. Her progress in 
learning was very slow. She decidedly had no 
taste for letters. Yet, she was pleased with the 
novelty of the enterprise, and went on attending 
the school, more for pleasure than profit. On 
their way home from the school-house, they 
were sometimes accompanied by several of their 
school-mates, who manifested a desire to become 
better acquainted with them. 

Upon these friendly advances, Olimond always 
frowned, for he was not of a sociable disposition. 
But Isabel loved company, and wanted to return 
their advances with double interest ; more espe- 
cially so, towards a lad named Patrick Frani- 
nigen. Olimond said and thought the very 
name of the aspiring youth was an offence, and 
declared that Isabel should not speak to him. 
The contention between the brother and sister, 
upon this social subject, finally ran so high and 
grew so warm, that Isabel resolved she would 
not attend the night school any more. 

This firml}^ formed resolution she unflinch- 
ingly adhered to. Her not attending the school 


We Four Villagers. 


249 


was a bitter disappointment to Olimond; and as 
be blamed young Patrick for being the cause of 
it, lie grew to dislike him more than he did any 
other’ living creature. He soon learned to look 
upon him as an enemy. 

Patrick, on his part, was too much pleased 
with Isabel’s pretty face and pleasant compan}', 
to relincjuish the satisfaction they afforded him. 
He, therefore, sometimes met her, as if by acci- 
dent, on her walk between her own home and 
the fringe making establishment. After awhile, 
he formed the habit of waiting for her every 
evening near the door of the manufactory in 
which she worked, and then he would either 
take a walk with h^r in some other direction, or 
accompany her to her own door, according to 
circumstances and her wishes. She never in- 
vited him to walk in when at the door of her 
own home, for fear of — she hardly knew what. 

About this time, all of Minnie’s children, ex- 
cept Olimond and Isabel, were taken very sick 
with measles. Minnie was obliged to give up 
her sewing to nurse them. Before a week 
passed away, she was nearly overcome with 
fatigue and loss of sleep. They remained very 
ill ten days. Minnie sent word to Isabel’s em- 
ployers, begging them to allow her the liberty 
21 * 


250 


AYe Four Villagers. 


of remaining home a few days, to assist in the 
nursing of her sick children. They answered^ 
they were too busy to spare her. 

These were hard times of suffering for poor 
Minnie. No one in the family was earning 
anjThing, except Olimond. He was obliged 
to give up attending night school, and spend his 
time, until a late hour, every evening, over his 
work-bench, earning extra wages. Finally, the 
two oldest of the sick children died, wnthin a 
few days of each other. Then it was that ]\Iin- 
nie greatly missed the useful and able help of 
her absent friend, Mrs. Bridd. Biddy was kind, 
and willing to perform all the duties of a sincere 
and worthy friend in need. But she had not 
the ability to make herself comfortably useful, 
that Mrs. Bridd so abundantly possessed. 

In the first excitement of her sympathy for 
Minnie’s sorrow and necessities, she ran for re- 
lief and comfort to Mrs. Sansonn. AATien she 
had delivered her sad account of this new be- 
reavement which had befallen Minnie, that lady 
said — 

^‘Lost another child, has she? AVhy, it 
seems to me her children are always dying; I 
am afraid she does not take good care of them.” 

Indade, ma’am, said Biddy, she takes the 


We Four Villagers. 


251 


very best care of them. Sure, a better mother 
niver lived, than is that same Mrs. Malvers.” 

am sorry for her; you may give her 
this note to help her along with the funeral. 
But, if any more of her children die, I think 
you had better apply to the county for the 
means of burying them. It appears to me, I 
have given Mrs. Malvers as much time and 
money as I can afford.” 

After Biddy left her, the lady talked to her- 
self very much in this style — 

“ I have been helping and helping that same 
Mrs. Malvers until I am tired of it. It seems 
to me there is continually some demand made 
on my time or money on her account, until I 
am weary of the subject.” 

But she did not remember there was One 
near her, and around all her pathway through 
life, from the earliest dawn of her existence 
until the present hour, who never wearied of 
supplying her wants. She forgot that the 
same benign Being never wearied in bestowing 
on her the choicest, richest blessings of health, 
wealth and happiness. She never, for one 
moment, thought of the possibility of Ilis grow- 
ing weary in blessing her. She had so long, 
daily and hourly, received these blessings, that 


252 


Wb Four Villagers. 


she felt as if they were hers by the right of in- 
heritance. 

When the next sick child died, Biddy did 
not ask the assistance of Mrs. Sansonn, but 
went to her own friends, neighbors and ac- 
quaintances. After a great deal of delay, labor 
and trouble, she succeeded in collecting enough 
to defray the expenses of a very plain and^ 
cheap funeral. The recovery of the other chil- 
dren was very slow. The weather was exces- 
sively cold ; fuel was measured to the family in 
stinted quantities; the consequence was, that 
Minnie caught a violent cold which, added to 
the prolonged fatigue she had endured, nursing 
the sick children, her grief over the recently 
deceased ones, and the want of proper nourish- 
ment and judicious medical aid, threw her upon 
a bed of sickness. 

During its long continuance, she suffered 
much from want of good nursing. Isabel was 
absent all day, at her fringe learning. The 
other children were too young to be either skil- 
ful or attentive nurses. Dr. Newday had left 
the neighborhood, and his successor did not 
care whether his patients died or recovered. 
Biddy occasionally went to see her, and did 
as much as she could to make her comfortable. 


We Four Villagers. 


25B 


One (lay she found her in great trouble. She 
had spent the last cent of Olimond’s earnings 
for the last week^ and now there was not a 
mouthful of food of any kind in the house. 
Biddy had previously feared that things would 
come to this state, and had provided for Minnie’s 
use some soup-house tickets. But she was un- 
willing to mention the subject to the invalid ; 
and at the same time, she was averse to going 
to the soup-house herself, for fear the neighbors 
would think it was for her own benefit. As the 
hour approached at which Olimond and Isabel 
would come to their dinner, Biddy told Minnie 
not to fret any more about their dinner that 
day, as she knew how to provide them with a 
very good one. She then said : — 

^^Mrs. Malvers, will you allow your son Frank 
to go in my room a little while ?” 

Yes,” said Minnie; ^^you may keep him 
there as long as you please.” 

Biddy and Frank then left Minnie, and v;hen 
they entered the other dwelling, she handed him a 
bright, tin kettle, a basket, and some tickets. She 
directed him where to go, and how to use them, 
in order to procure some excellent beef soup, 
and a large loaf of bread. She also said to 
him — 


254 


We Fouk Villagers. 


When you get the soup and bread, carry 
them, as fast as you can, to your mother ; and if 
she asks you where they came from, tell her she 
must ask me.’' 

This was on a Friday. The next day, at 
noon, the family dinner at Minnie’s was procured 
at the same place, and in the same way. They 
all enjoyed it, wdthout asking any questions 
about where it had come from. On Saturday 
night Olimond brought home, as usual, his hard 
earned week’s wages. 

The said wages sufficed to supply his family 
with food and fuel until the next Friday, and 
then there w^as a repeated application for relief 
made at the soup-house. 

Meanwhile, Isabel’s term of learning to make 
fringe came to a close, and she was hired to 
work at the art. During her first week of 
being paid, she earned only enough to buy a 
thick, warm shawl. She greatly needed it, and 
did not see how she could do without it. The 
next week she earned enough to buy her mother 
a warm winter dress ; the first new dress she 
had seen of her own, for many long years. On 
the following week, Isabel and several other 
hands were dismissed from the friime makina: 
establishment, because there was nothing there 


255 


We Foue Yillagees. 

for them to do ; the stores were all supplied, 
and had ceased giving orders. In other words, 
the busy season was over, and Isabel was out of 
employment until the beginning of the next busy 
season ; when that would be, she could not learn. 

She then nursed her mother, and kept the 
house in order very nicely, but she could not 
aid in supporting the family. That had all to 
be done by the labors of Olimond; and he 
worked faithfully to accomplish it. But when 
the month’s rent became due, there was nothing 
to pay it. When the landlord called for the 
money, he bore his disappointment very well, 
and said he hoped Minnie would be well very 
soon, and that she would then be able to make 
it up. But time passed away, and Minnie did 
not get well. 

Hoping thereby to be able to save up some- 
thing towards the rent, the soup and bread were 
more and more frequently sent for, until, one 
day, it happened that, as Olimond was coming 
to his dinner, he overtook his little brother 
Frank, carrying home the soup, while two or 
three of Patrick Franinigen’s younger brothers 
were shouting after him, from their alley gate — 
Frank Malvers, the soup-house beggar ! the 
soup-house beggar !” 


256 


We Four Villagers. 


The neighbors had discovered where so many 
good dinners had come from, long before Oli- 
mond did. He went into his mother’s room, 
in a violent passion; tossing his cap into a 
corner, he exclaimed, with a burning face and 
a trembling voice — 

Is this what I am working so hard for, day 
and night — to be called a beggar?” 

Nobody called you a beggar, my son.” 

It is the same; they called Frank a beggar ; 
we are one.” 


CHAPTEK XXYI. 

VISITING COMMITTEE — BOB BLAZENBILL. 

Poor Minnie ! she was always so glad to see, 
and be nourished by the charity of the soup- 
house, that she had not cared to ask where it 
came from. Oliraond would not eat a mouthful 
of dinner, and he told his mother that if his 
brother was ever again sent to the soup-house, 
he would run away and go to sea. 

That afternoon, when Biddy called to see 
Minnie, she was told, by Isabel, of her brother 


We Toue Yillagees. 257 

Olimond’s umvillingness to have the soup sent 
for. 

^^Poor fellow 1” said Biddy; ^^and what can I 
do for ye now ? If ye cannot git the bread and 
soup, ye will surely niver be able to save up yer 
rint.” 

Indeed, Biddy,” said Minnie, I am sure I 
do not know what to do about my rent ; in one 
week more, I will owe two months’ rent, and I 
have not more than one dollar towards it.” 

I will,” said Biddy, apply for ye to the 
commetty.” 

To the what ?” 

To the vasiting commetty, who have been 
gavin’ Molly Maguire, over the way, two dollars 
a week all the Winter ; and she is not half as 
seek as ye are.” 

Who are the committee ?” 

Sure, my darlint, they are two leddies, who 
go aboot hunting after poor folks.” 

^^0 !” said Minnie; ^^if they hunt all day, I 
am sure they will not find any poorer than we 
are. But, Biddy, we must try not to let Oli- 
mond know anything about it.” 

In the course of a few days, the visiting com- 
mittee were prepared to call on Minnie. She 
and her daughter were expecting the visit, and 
22 


258 


We Four Yillagers. 


wishing to receive it with all due respect, Isa- 
bel gave several brightening-up touches to their 
humble home. The walls cf the sitting-room 
Avere freshly AvhiteAvashed ; the carpet, though 
old and patched, and very much darned, was 
nicely shaken, and so neatly tacked to the floor 
that it looked very decent ; the windows Avere 
AAnshed and wiped until they shone in a bright 
polish, and over them Avere hung short, thin 
curtains, of snoAvy muslin ; to be sure, the fabric 
of Avhich they Avere made Avas old and full of 
long darns ; yet, in its glossy smoothness, fresh 
from her ironing-board, it looked almost as good 
as ncAv. 

Then she insisted that, as her mother AA*as 
so much better that day — the excitement and 
hopefulness of the anticipated visit buoyed up 
her strength amazingly — she should be dressed 
ill her best dress ; the neAv one she had so lately 
earned, and, by her mothers directions, had 
made. The fit Avas not the neatest in the 
Avoiid ; but Isabel resolved to remedy that evil, 
by Avrapping her OAvn neAV sIiraaT around the 
Avearer until the Ausit AAns concluded. In short, 
they, in many Avays, tried to make themselves 
and their home look as decent and respectable 
as they could be made to look, all out of respect 


^yE Foue Yillagees. 


259 


to the ladies Avho were to favor them with a 
visit. Their doing so was very bad policy. 
They should have done exactly the contrary, 
if they wished to excite the sympathy of their 
expected new acquaintances* But Minnie had 
fallen into poverty too late in life, to learn how 
to be politically poor. It is an art that must 
be learned in early life, or never. 

At last, the ladies came. Their entrance was 
quite an afhiir ; such a display of flowers, 
flounces and feathers, silks, satins and velvets, 
furs, ribbons, laces and jewelry, was surely, 
never at one time, until then, enclosed between 
the four walls of that old, little room. How the 
ajDpearance of so much splendor dazzled and 
awed the feelings of the visited ; and how much 
meaner, and poorer than ever, did their own 
dress now seem to them ! 

The ladies asked a great many questions, 
some of which were quite useless, and some 
were very painful. They soon learned that 
Minnie’s present most urgent want, was the sum 
of seven dollars, for the payment of the last two 
months’ rent, that would be due in a couple of 
days. 

After they ^vere through -with their list of 
questions, one took a long, and almost over- 


260 


We Four Yillagers. 


fiowingly filled silk purse from her pocket, and 
with as much ceremony and parade as it was 
possible to exercise on the occasion, drew there- 
from a twenty-five cent piece, and gave it to 
Minnie, with the faintly expressed wish that 
she would succeed in raising the rest of the 
needed amount all in good time. 

The other lady then said — 

If you will send one of your children, with 
a tin-cup or bowl, to our alley gate, every morn- 
ing, between nine and ten o’clock, our cook will 
give you our cold tea grounds, and they will 
be something, to help you along with your own 
and children’s breakfast.”"^ 

The visiting committee then took their de- 
parture, and were never again heard from by 
Minnie Mai vers. When they had regained the 
open street, one of the ladies said to the other — 
The idea of that woman pretending to be 
poor ! Her room is as neat and comfortable as 
my own.” 

, “ But she looks very pale and delicate,” said 
the other. 

do not consider people in delicate health, 
while they are able to sit up, out of bed.” 


* A fact. 


We FoUK y ill AGEES. 


261 


The final resolve of their dialogue was, that 
they had other persons on their visiting list, 
who looked much poorer than Minnie Malvers 
did, and that it was their duty to relieve them 
in preference to her, although those very same 
persons were earning living wages, at various 
kinds of labor, to which they had been accus- 
tomed all their adult days. 

This fresh disappointment, in not receiving 
more weighty aid from the visiting committee, 
had a very serious effect on Minnie s health, 
and she felt much worse for it. But where 
liope had raised her she was now kept by 
despair, and under its exciting influence she 
rallied her strength and made out to keep from 
sinking under the weight of her many wants 
and woes. With Isabel’s support, she walked 
to her nearest customer, and procured some 
needle work. It could not be completed in time 
to be of any avail for the payment of the rent ; 
but she hoped to make thereby a beginning to- 
wards that of the next month’s bill. 

Her heart sank Avithin her, whenever she 
remembered the fast approaching time, at Avhich 
she kncAv the landlord would make his accus- 
tomed monthly call. Yet she Avorked on, as in- 
dustriously as her feeble health Avould permit, 
22 * 


262 We Four Villagers. 

and tried hard to instruct Isabel in a skilful 
use of her needle. But Isabel’s needle was re- 
fractory, and would not receive instructions ; it 
would incessantly bend, break, rust, or get lost, 
until poor Minnie, in despondence, inwardly de- 
clared that it was a w^aste of her time to try to 
make it useful. On the rent pay-day, the land- 
lord called at about one o’clock. Minnie gave 
him the one dollar and a quarter, and told him 
she was very sorry, but that it was all she had 
been able to collect for him. 

He looked at her inquiringly, but said nothing. 
He silently held the five silver quarters in the 
palm of his hand, as if he was deliberating what 
he should do with them. While he remained 
doing so, little Frank came in, bearing on his 
arm a small basket, filled with half-burned stone 
coal, that he had picked up on an open lot in the 
neighborhood, which was used as a reservoir of 
city coal ashes. 

‘^Is that the way you are supplied with 
fuel?” asked the landlord. 

‘^^Yes sir, at present; times are hard, and we 
cannot afford to buy it.” 

Why do you not apply for coal at some of 
the benevolent society offices ?” 


We Four Villagers. 


263 


We have, sir, applied at three, and have been 
told at them all that they have not any.” 

Then go to the guardians of the poor.” 

I was there, and received a quarter or a 
third of a ton, I believe they called it; that 
was so worthless, and burned away so fast, I 
was both afraid and ashamed to tell them how 
soon it was all gone. But even if I would go, 
they would not give me any more this Winter.” 

The landlord then returned to Minnie the five 
silver coins that he still held in his hand, and 
told her to buy as much coal as she could with 
them ; for, said he — 

1 would as leave you should owe me eight 
dollars as six and three-quarters.” 

Minnie thanked him very much, and the dire- 
ful troubles — a lack of fuel and meeting the 
demands of an unpayable rent were then put to 
rest for a few weeks. This, though a short, 
was a blessed relief. 

On the evening after Olimond discovered his 
brother’s having been sent to the soup-house for 
his family dinner, he had on hand a job of over 
work, which he wished to finish before he went 
home to his supper. When the regular day’s 
work was closed, at six o’clock, Olimond threw 
himself, at full length, on an old settee, which 


264 


We Four Villagers. 


stood behind the stove in his workshop. lie 
felt strangely weary and worn out, poor fellow ! 
and no wonder, for he sadly needed the refresh- 
ment of the dinner he had refused to cat. In a 
few minutes he was left alone. It did not take 
his fellow laborers much time to be prepared to 
march away, homeward bound.” As soon as 
the striking of the clock proclaimed the hour of 
release from their daily toil, away they all 
bounded, to eat their well earned evening meal. 

After they had gone, and the shop was left 
to himself, Olimond wnmng his hands in tearful 
anguish, and muttered, in a low voice — 

0, my lot is a hard, hard one ! a sick mother, 
and all those little children to support ; it seems 
to me, sometimes, that they are eating the very 
life away from me ; and yet, the w^orst part of it 
all, is to be called a beggar. 0 ! I wish — but I 
must get up and go to work, or they will be 
really and altogether beggars.” 

With that painful thought, he jumped up, and 
bent over his evening’s work. Pale he was, 
and trembling with fatigue and hunger ; yet he 
resolutely struggled against their powerful hin- 
drances, by reflecting that if he did not wmrk, 
work, /work, even beyond his strength, his 
mother would, by necessity, be forced to take 


We Four Yillagers. 


265 


refuge ^vliere liis father had died, the victim of 
his own depraved appetite. He worked on, 
bravely and steadily, wdthout interruption, until 
half-past eight o’clock. He was progressing 
Avith his evening’s wmrk as fast as could be ex- 
pected, Avhen he heard the door at the foot of the 
workshop stairs slowly opened, then shut quietly, 
then a heavy, lingering, unsteady thump, thump, 
tramp, tramp, of a man’s step Avas heard ascend- 
ing the dark, steep staircase. In a few minutes, 
the door of the AA^orkshop was pushed open, and 
very sloAAdy, a tall, aAAd^AA^ard figure Avalked in 
and seated itself on the old settee. Olimond 
kneAv all about Avho it Avas that entered, Avithout 
looking up from his Avork, for he was used to 
meeting him in these lonely eA^enings, wdiile he 
Avas doing his over wmrk. The intruder’s name 
Avas Bob Blazenbill. He Avas a relative — a 
near one, too — of Olimond’s employers. He led 
such an irregular, dissipated life, that he Avas 
forbidden to enter the domestic circle of his re- 
lations ; but they alloAved him to take refuge in 
the shelter of the Avorkshop, Avhenever he saAv 
proper. They did not Avish his vicious habits 
to contaminate the presence of their OAvn chil- 
dren. But he w\as freely permitted to Avork all 
the evil he Avanted to, on the Avorkmen and boys 


266 


We Foue Yillageks. 


of the estahlishment. What matter did it make 
Avhether or not these latter were blighted^ for 
time and eternity, by the evil example and 
temptations of bright Bob Blazenbill? They 
could be led by him to the same downward road 
to ruin in which he was stumbling, staggering, 
straying, reeling, without adding any fresh dis- 
grace to their family reputation. 

After Olimond’s job was finished, he sat a few 
minutes to rest himself on the settee. Bob then 
gave a peculiar kind of a whistle, and said — 
Have a drink, my man ?” 

He had often asked the same man” the 
same question, and had always been answered 
with a rude repulse ; but on this occasion, poor 
Olimond was too weak from hunger to be re- 
pulsive ; he was weak, and, naturally enough, 
parleyed with his tempter. 

Instead of acting as he was accustomed to, 
when speaking with ^^old Bob,” as the workmen 
called him, he said : — 

Have a drink ? yes, if you will give me a 
drink of good, hot coffee.” 

Coffee ! coffee is splash, fit only for women 
and children. Punch — punch, hot, strong and 
sweet — that’s the drink for men on such a night 
as this.” 


We Four Villagers. 


267 


Olimond continued to sit on the old settee to 
rest he thought, Bob and his master^ old 
Satan^ saw him sitting there to become their 
prey. While he sat and rested, Bob was not 
idle; he had a box in the shop, of which he 
ahvays carried the key ; and from its mysterious 
depths he soon dug out all the requisite ingre- 
dients and utensils for the manufacturing and 
drinking a pitcher full of hot whiskey punch. 
When it was all ready, Olimond drank a large 
glass of it, then started for home. As he was 
passing Biddy’s front door, he found her hus- 
band, Jabez, standing at it, as if he w^as there 
w^atching for his return. He said — 

Olimond, my wife wmnts to see you.” 

They entered Biddy’s house together. As 
soon as Biddy saw them, she said : — 

Olimond, I had some nice buckwheat cakes 
and sausages for supper, and as I know you like 
them, I have saved somxe, hot, for you, and a bowl 
of hot coffee, too. Now, sit down, my dear boy, 
and let me have the pleasure of seeing you ate 
them.” 

Olimond did not need a second invitation, but 
ate and enjoyed his good supper. 

Biddy admired Olimond’s self-sacrificing love 
to his mother, and her other children, -very 


268 


We Foue Yillageks. 


much, and made it a point to give him some- 
thing nice to eat, 'whenever she could. She 
knew that on this particular night he needed it, 
and had acted accordingly. 

Boh Blazenhill and the m.aster of his choice, 
did not find in Olimond as easy a victim as they 
had hoped he would he. He would not again 
taste Boh’s hot punch, no matter how well he 
sweetened it. 

Minnie slowly recovered her accustomed mea- 
sure of health and strength, and she was so 
anxious to keep at work at her needle, that she 
almost forced herself to forget her aches and 
pains, and her distressing cough, in order to 
earn some money towards her hack rent. But 
about this time, one of those unaccountable and 
mysterious upward flights in the prices of all 
eatables took place in Philadelphia. 

Flour was so amazingly high priced, that 
bread had to be eaten with fear and trembling. 
Butter was so dear, that it dared not be looked 
at by poor people. Meats of all kinds were, in 
their prices, beyond all endurance ; and as far as 
fruits and vegetables were concerned, one might 
very reasonably suppose they had been reared 
in beds of gold and silver, to be 'worth half the 
prices that were asked for them. Sugar, tea 


We Four Yillagers. 


269 


and coffee failed not to keep their extravagant 
company, and the consequence of all this was, 
that when Minnie went to market or to the 
shops, Avith fifty cents in her hand, to procure 
thereAvith a dinner for her household, and ascer- 
tained the utmost quantity of provisions which 
she could procure with such a trifling sum, she 
Avas struck dumb Avith consternation, amaze- 
ment and despondence. She AA^as drh^en to 
make the conclusion that, struggle and labor as 
hard as she and Olimond might, they could not, 
by their united efforts, more than earn enough 
to save the family from starvation. 


CHAPTEE XXYII. 

AGAIN PUT OUT — A PLEASANT RETREAT. 

Thus time wore slowly aAvay ; the last day 
of the month of JMarch was fast approaching, 
and Minnie was still without the means of pay- 
ing her rent. Isabel was, by this time, tired of 
her home, and she ardently wished she had 
learned some other trade instead of making 
fringe. Spring was fast approaching, and with 
23 


270 


We Foue Yillagees. 


its warm, fine weather, and long, sunshiny days, 
she would greatly need several additions to her 
wardrobe, which could not he procured without 
money. The money she so sadly needed, she 
felt she could never earn with her needle, at 
plain sewing, as her mother did. On these ac- 
counts, she felt desirous to hire out as a domestic. 
One of her acquaintances procured her a situa- 
tion which she thought would be a very pleasant 
one ; but Isabel liked it so little, that she did 
not keep it more than two weeks. Then an- 
other one was obtained, with precisely the same 
result. Then another, and another shared the 
same fate. ^ 

In this way Isabel spent her time, running 
about trying new places, not one of which ever 
came up to her ideas of what was an endurable 
one. Thus spending her time, she earned but 
little, and she was, moreover, a source of much 
painful anxiety to her mother. 

In sorrow, dread and sadness, the month of 
March passed away. The weather was very 
cold, and fuel burned away with wonderful 
rapidity. 

About this time, Biddy’s husband, Jabez 
Underwey, was unusually prospered in his busi- 
ness. His affairs were looking up, and he be- 


We Four Yillagers. 


271 


came ambitious ; so mucb so, that he wished to 
be the master of his own workshop, in which he 
might, at night and other odd times, do many 
jobs of carpenter work, which he could not do 
in any other place. And where, in all the wide 
world, could he find another place which would 
answer his purpose as well as the back frame 
building, which w^as occupied by his wife’s 
friend, Minnie Malvers ? 

A few days before the first of April, he Avent 
to see his landlord, and said : — 

“ I am very sorry, sir, that I have been the 
means of finding you such a poor tenant as Mrs. 
Malvers is.” 

0, well !” answered the landlord, very good 
naturedly, ^^do not fret about it. She will do 
better in future, I hope.” 

There is but a poor prospect of that, I fear, 
sir,” said Jabez, with becoming gravity. 

She is well now,” argued the landlord, and 
her daughter has gone to work again, has she 
not?” 

She is sometimes at work, and sometimes 
at home, as it happens best to please her fancy. 
I don’t think any of her earnings will ever help 
to pay her mother’s rent.” 

Do you think not ?” 


272 


We Four Villagers. 


And I think, sir, that things will be worse 
there, a long time, before they are better, or I 
am no judge of consequences.’' 

am sorry to hear you say so,” said the land- 
lord ; I have had a great deal of patience with 
them, on account of their sickness ; but, if their 
affairs are not likely to improve, I will have to 
put them out.” 

You may depend, sir, they will not improve.” 

What makes you so positive in your opinion 
on that subject ?” 

Well, sir, the reason is simply this. The 
other evening, Olimond came in our house, on 
his way home from work, and I perceived whis- 
key on his breath. Now, sir, when a boy of his 
age drinks whiskey, can you expect his affairs 
will ever be likely to improve ?” 

^^No, no, no; of course they cannot; but can 
it be possible that he drinks ?” 

I tell you, sir, I know he had been drinking 
that night.” 

That is very bad, indeed. Of course, if he 
takes to drinking, I need not hope for things to 
mend with him.” 

No sir, they will never !” 

It is an ugly piece of business. I do detest 
putting a poor woman out of house and home.” 


We Four Yillagers. 


273 


Any other landlord, sir, would have done it 
two months ago.” 

There is no doubt of that.” 

You have allowed them to live there, rent 
free, nearly all winter. What else should they 
ask of you ? to keep them in shelter all their 
lives, gratis ?” 

True, true, I have been very easy with 
them, I know.” 

You have shown them more kindness than 
they have any right to expect from you.” 

Of course, they have no claim on me.” 

Now, sir,” said Jabez, 1 want to rent that 
same old building, for my own use, and if I can 
have it on the first day of the next month, I 
will pay you for it five dollars per month. If I 
cannot have it, I must move immediately.” 

You shall have it.” 

The satisfied tenant then took his departure 
in peace ; for he saw that his threat to move 
was a very, moving argument in his favor. 

The landlord was far from enjoying the same 
degree of self-complacence on the subject. He 
was not a cruel man, naturally, and he disliked 
very much, to put the force of the law on any 
of his poor tenants; much more so, when the 
tenant was a feeble woman. Yet, there was 
23* 


274 


We Four Villagers. 


before the eye of his mind that evil monster, 
known among men by the deceptive name of 
self-interest; and that powerfid monster wms 
alluring him by holding before his eyes the en- 
ticing sum of five dollars per month, in lieu of a 
blank. And he, for the sake of that paltry sum, 
hardened his heart into the belief that it was 
his duty to accept the offer of self-interest, no 
matter how disagreeable might be the result of 
such acceptance. Had he but remembered, it 
was more, far more important, to do unto 
others as he would like them to do unto him,” 
than anything could be which would cause him 
to break this golden rule, he would have realized 
that the sum of five dollars per month was not 
such a mighty large sum as it seemed to be 
while offered by a false and delusive love of 
pecuniary gain. 

At the beginning of April, Minnie’s house- 
hold goods and chattels were seized by a duly 
authorized officer, and placed, by his orders, on 
the street pavement, in front of the house. 

When the work was all done, the officer 
locked the doors, and took the keys away with 
him. Biddy made Minnie and her little chil- 
dren go into her room, and there they were 
sitting, in great bewilderment of mind and 


We Four Yillagers. 


275 


body, when Olimond came to his dinner. The 
poor boy was much shocked, but he did the best 
he could to try to cheer his mother; and he 
told her he would try to obtain leave of absence 
from wmrk, that afternoon, and endeavor to 
find her a place of shelter somewhere, before 
night. 

Biddy made him sit down and eat a good din- 
ner which she had prepared for him. Isabel 
was absent from home, trying the endurability 
of her third place, and therefore, fortunately, 
she was not a sharer in this new misfortune. 

When Olimond asked Mr. Loydem, his em- 
ployer, for leave of absence from work, that 
afternoon, he said to him — 

Why, Olimond, what’s in your head to 
make you so unreasonable ? You know how 
much hurried we are just now.” 

‘^Yes sir, I know it. But my mother has 
been put out of doors by our landlord ; she is 
not well enough to run about to hunt another 
place, and I w\ant to do it for her before night, 
if I can ; our goods are all standing out on the 
front pavement, sir.” 

^^What made the landlord put her out?” 

I believe it was for back rent. We have 
had a great deal of sickness at our house the 


276 


We Four Yillagees. 


past few months, and she could not collect 
money for the payment of the rent.” 

After a few moments’ silence, Mr. Loydem 
said : — 

Some time ago, I bought a lot of ground, 
out near our Sister Mary’s house, because it 
was very cheap. There is an old frame building 
on it, in which your mother may live, rent free, 
until she can get herself better suited, if you 
and she will think it is good enough for you.” 

0, sir,” said Olimond, I am so thankful to 
you ! any place with a roof over it will be good 
enough. May I go tell my mother about it ?” 

^^No, you go to work. I will send her a 
message by the errand boy.” 

Olimond then went to work with a brightened 
heart. The heavy burden of care being thus 
unexpectedly removed from his mind, made his 
fingers fly about very nimbly, and it was, there- 
fore, a good half day’s work which he performed 
that afternoon for his obliging employer. The 
man was already reaping the beneficial results 
of having acted on the golden rule principle. 
Never yet did any one obey that rule, without 
being in some way benefitted by it. 

When Minnie found there was a place ready 
to receive her, the next question was, how she 


We Foue Yillagees. 


277 


should remove her goods to it. The old house 
lately . purchased by Mr. Loydem was a long 
way olF, at the upper end of Francisville. No 
furniture car would take a load there for less 
than a dollar and a half ; and she had not a dol- 
lar in the world. In this perplexing difficulty, 
Biddy came to the rescue, by offering to pay 
for the removal of the goods. Biddy strongly 
suspected the part Jabez had acted in causing 
Minnie’s ejectment, and she resolved to make 
his purse suffer for it. When the goods were 
all packed in the furniture car, Biddy took Min- 
nie and her children as near to their new home 
as she could, in an omnibus, the cost of which 
she also paid. When they arrived at it, Biddy 
remained with them until a late hour in the 
evening, helping to arrange the furniture in 
proper order. 

After that, Olimond was obliged to carry his 
dinner with him, and eat it in the workshop. 
This was unfortunate for him, as it threw him 
much more frequently in the company of Bob 
Blazenbill. 

Minnie was much pleased with her new situa- 
tion 5 she was within view of the open fields, and 
it greatly cheered her to have such an extended 
prospect ever before her eyes. The air around 


278 


We Four Yillagers. 


her new place of abode was pure and fresh, clear 
and bracing, compared to any other she had 
breathed since her departure from her well be- 
loved Silveryville. 

The house she now occupied, was a two 
storied, old, yellow frame, with three rooms on 
a floor. It had a pleasant little garden in front, 
in which were growing two noble, old poplar 
trees ; around the flower beds, in the garden, 
there were low borders of boxwood. In the 
rear of the house there was a very extensive 
yard. In it were growing several gnarled, 
knotty, old cherry and plum trees. 

As the Spring opened, the warm weather in- 
creased and the days lengthened, Minnie was 
delighted to sit, with her work, at the front 
door, beneath the shade of the poplar trees, 
while her children sported and played in the 
back yard. Here, Frank and Merton were sent 
to the public school. In this remote neighbor- 
hood, it was not as fully crowded as in others, 
by the children of the rich people. Rose was 
still too young to be entered. 

A few weeks after Minnie was snugly fixed 
in the old yellow frame house, Isabel returned 
home from her fourth or fifth place, which she 
could not endure, on account of the large num- 


We Fouk Yillagees. 


279 


ber of young cliildren with which it abounded. 
She now resolved she w^ould not try hiring out 
again, but learn some other trade, by which she 
might be able to support herself, and aid her 
mother, if she could conveniently. 

First, she tried gaiter binding; then silver 
ware polishing ; then match-box making ; when 
she had learned five different kinds of manual 
labor, she made out to earn a little something 
at one or another of them, whenever she was in 
urgent need of some article of clothing, w^hich 
she could not obtain without money earned by 
her own hands. Olimond and his mother had 
as much as they could do, in supplying the other 
wants of the family, among which had to be in- 
cluded, the greatest part of the time, Isabel’s 
boarding ; for she never earned enough to feel it 
convenient to aid her mother in furnishing the 
table expenses. 

Now and then, when OlimSnd’s dinner hap- 
pened to be more than .usually dry, he was 
induced to accept Bob Blazenbill’s oft-repeated 
offers of something to drink. This drink was 
most frequently accepted, when offered in the 
form of foaming beer or frothy porter, than when 
made in smaller quantities, of something stronger. 
Yet, on the whole, Olimond’s progress towards 


280 


We Four Villagers. 


becoming what Bob felt it would be delightful 
to see him — a regular tippler — was very slow. 
Bob often thought to himself^ that he was the 
hardest case to win over entirely and openly on 
the side of old King Alcohol; that he had ever 
yet taken in hand. Such cases were far from 
being like good angels visits — 

“ Few and far between^’ — 

but like fiends’ prowlingS; around the bright and 
beautiful spots of earth; they were thick and 
innumerable. Strange, marvellously strange it 
is, that a human being can be so perverted in 
his feelings and in his nature, as to become the 
destroyer of his fellow creatures ! Yet, how 
many such do we see, especially among those 
who have enrolled their names, their passions, 
and their destinies, and their laborious services 
under the fiery and blood-sprinkled banners of 
the old and destructive god, Bacchus ! 


CHAPTEE XXYIII, 


A CALM. 

Two years passed away, and Minnie, during 
their passage over her, enjoyed an unwonted 
space of comparative domestic peace and tran- 
quillity. She was not visited by any violent 
attacks of sickness. 

Death, with his ghastly visage, had not in- 
truded his unwelcome presence within the limits 
of her much reduced family circle. More than 
ten times the crushing hoofs of his pale charger, 
in bygone years, had trampled down beneath 
them the beloved forms of those who were near 
and dear to her heart’s best affections. Dread- 
ingly apprehensive had she become of another 
visit from him. But these two years, he neither 
came, nor sent a shadow of his fearful approach 
near her, in the form of prostrate sickness. 

Her main anxiety now, was caused by Isabel’s 
continued unsteadiness at any kind of occupa- 
tion. For herself, she found an abundant sup- 
ply of plain sewing; and as they were still 
24 


282 


We Fouk Yillagees. 


living rent free, her own earnings, added to Oli- 
mond’s, kept them from any kind of pecuniary 
suffering. Olimond was still the favorite of his 
employers, and they had lately told him, that 
on the beginning of the next year, they intended 
to increase his wages very largely. 

Thus, two years passed away. They were 
the two most peaceful years Minnie had known 
since the death of good Mr. Emgreen. They 
were a pleasant rest on her weary way along 
the path of life. Her Heavenly Father had be- 
fore them, in love and mercy, smitten her very 
sorely, to wean her affections from the delusive 
things and scenes of earth, that she might turn 
from them in her dark trials, towards Him, for 
strength and help in her adversity. But in vain 
was all His smiting; she would not, did not, 
recognise His hand in the events of her life, and 
therefore, it was, perhaps, that He was now trying 
to win her love and obedience to His Holy laws, 
by giving her a rest, a calm, a peace, which she 
greatly needed, after all the storms of affliction 
she had encountered. 

Her health was now vastly improved. But 
her present blessings were all in vain, to win 
her to her Father’s love. The Bible, formerly 
Mr. Emgreen’s, which she had saved from the 


We Four Villagers. 


283 


wreck of her Silvery ville home — that venerable, 
old family Bible, in which he had so often read, 
was carefully encased in a green cloth cover, 
and placed on the best table, in the best room 
of her humble home. It was, to Minnie, a re- 
vered object; revered because it had been loved, 
and studied, and devoutly prized by its former 
owner ; but, in itself — in its contents, and their 
relation to eternity — it was, to her, most sadly, 
truly, an object of utter indifference. 

What a fearful state of being is that of an un- 
praying and un-Bible reading mother ! Alas 1 
where can she go for comfort and for guidance, 
if she will not open her Heaven-inspired volume, 
and if she will not humble herself in praj^er, 
before the throne of Heavenly Grace ? Ah ! 
there is little in this life of trial to cheer and 
console such an one, even under the most 
favored circumstances. How very, very sad, 
then, must be her heart’s experience, when she 
is called to walk through life in the stony and 
thorny pathways of poverty ! 

Poverty, how many rankling, writhing, wrath- 
ful evils are thine, which can be known only 
by actual experience ! These evils cannot be 
cheered or sweetened, except by religion, and 
by an ever abiding faith and trust in the Good- 


284 


We Foue Villagers. 


ness and Wisdom of an Omnipotent Creator and 
Ruler of the Universe. 

Isabel was now tall for her age, and as usual 
with children who are reared in toil and poverty, 
she was prematurely advanced and independent 
in mind, far beyond her years. She fancied 
she was quite capable of judging right from 
wrong, and believed herself to be old enough to 
be the mistress of her own actions. Then, 
under the influence of these fancies, she openly 
received the visits of Patrick Franinigen, in de- 
fiance of her mother’s expressed wishes to the 
contrary. 

They both knew how disagreeable he was to 
Olimond, and his mother dreaded his meeting 
him in the house. But Isabel was obstinate, 
and would not yield her wishes to her mother s. 
The only answer she ever gave her on the sub- 
ject, was to the effect that Olimond had no 
reason for disliking Patrick ; that she liked him,^ 
and was resolved to receive his visits, whether 
Olimond was pleased with them or not. 

Alas, for poor Minnie ! her two years of com- 
parative calm and peace were now ended, and 
she was troubled by an unexpected and unan- 
ticipated state of affairs. One Sunday evening, 
Olimond returned from his usual long Sunday 


We Four Yillagers. 


285 


walk in the country^ while Patrick was sitting 
in the front room surrounded hy the other 
members of the family. 

Minnie trembled with fear and dread when 
she saw him approach the house ; but Olimond 
was tited, and passed through the room without 
speaking to or seeming to notice any person in 
it. He immediately went to his own room, and 
in a few minutes w^as fast asleep. 

Patrick stayed very late that night; much 
later than Minnie wished to have him remain. 
After he was gone, she told Isabel, if he did not 
keep better hours in future she would have to 
forbid his coming to the house. These words 
irritated the feelings of the wilful daughter, and 
she made answers to them that greatly wounded 
the feelings of the unfortunate mother. 

The next evening, at the supper-table, one 
of the other children said, laughingly, to Oli- 
mond — 

What do you think. Oily, our Izzy had a 
beau last night, and you did not stop to look at 
him as you went through the room.’' 

^^No,” said Olimond; ^‘1 was too tired to 
look at any body when I came in.” 

How fine he was dressed up ! you ought to 
have looked at him,” said little Hose; ^'he was 
24 * 


286 


We Four Villagers. 


so much afraid I would hurt his new clothes, 
that he would not let me come near him.” 

I don’t see how he could keep you off, you 
have such a fashion of lolling on every person 
that comes in the house.” 

lie didn’t let me come within three feet of 
him; he kept twirling and twisting his long, 
black cane around him so hard, all the time 
I was in the room, that I kept far enough from 
him, I tell you I did.” 

What is his name ? If he is such a grand 
dandy as you make him out, I suppose I must 
speak to him the next time I meet him here.” 

Minnie now tried hard to change the subject, 
and to divert Olimond’s attention to some other 
one. But it was too late. He was interested in 
all he could hear about ^Mzzy’s” visitor, and in- 
sisted on knowing his name. 

^Mlis name,” said Isabel, very pertly, ‘^is 
Patrick Franinigen; and he is very much im- 
proved; you would not have known him if you 
had looked at him ever so much.” 

Olimond then jumped up, and walking fiercely, 
near to Isabel, he said, violently — 

You don’t dare tell me you are keeping the 
company of that young villain, do you ?” 

He is not a villain ; he is a decent, young 


We Four Villagers. 


287 


mechanic^ and I will keep his company when- 
ever I can^ say and do what please about 
him.” 

I Olimond then turned toAvards his mother, and 
said, very passionately — 

I See here, mother, if that abominable young 
I Pat ever again puts his foot in this house, with 
; your consent, I will leave it for ever. Pemem- 
' her — remember well Avhat I say ; do you hear, 

! are you listeniug to me^ mother ?” 

! Yes, yes, Olimond, I hear you.” 

I say, the very day I meet that villainous 
young Pat here, with your consent, I will in- 
stantly go to the wharf, and ship myself off on 
I a Avhaling voyage.” 

Olimond then Avent to bed. Minnie told Isa- 
I bel that, for the present, Olimond’s will must be 
: the law of the house, and that Patrick Frani- 
' nigen must not enter it. 

|: Isabel cried very bitterly, and said many im- 

I pertinent things to her mother, then Avent to her 
I rest. While the children all slept, the mother 
j toiled at her needle the greater part of the en- 
tire night 5 anxiety of mind banished sleep from 
her eyelids, and she endeavored to drive away 
mental care by the activity of her hands. 


CHAPTBE XXIX. 


A BRIDAL CALL. 

The next morning, Olimond had eaten his 
breakfast and left the house, before Isabel came 
down stairs. That day, at noon, although his 
dinner was not by any means a dry one — it con- 
sisted of one bowl full of rich soup, and another 
of boiled rice and milk — not dry fare, that; 
quite the contrary ; yet he accepted Bob’s invi- 
tation to take a drink, and after he had emptied 
the glass, he allowed it to be refilled. 

He felt troubled in his mind about his sister’s 
choice of company, and he foolishly fancied that 
a double drink would wash away the trouble. 

Alas, how many poor, erring mortals possess 
the same maddening fancy, and thereby only 
add fuel to the flames of their real or imagined 
affliction ! 

A few evenings after that, Patrick was seen 
approaching the house, a little while before the 
time of Olimond’s usual return home. Isabel 
met him at the gate, said a few words to him. 


We Four Yillagers. 


289 


then returned alone to the house; and as she was 
hurriedly putting on her bonnet and shawl, she 
said to her mother — 

am going out to take a w\alk; good-bye” 

She then left the house, joined Patrick, who 
was waiting for her at the gate, and they walked 
away together, in a contrary direction from the 
one of Olimond’s return home. When this 
occurred, the other children were enjoying a 
merry game behind the house, and did not 
see it. 

Isabel was so often absent from home, that 
her being so that evening was not particularly 
noticed by Olimond, and he retired to rest with- 
* out asking any questions about her. After he 
and the other children were all asleep, Minnie 
‘ sat in her front room, down stairs, with her 
; sewing in her hands, listening to every sound 
: that could be heard in the quiet neighborhood. 

She was fearing that Patrick w^ould come 
j home with Isabel. She sat and watched, sewed, 
j listened, feared and trembled, until ten o’clock 
! struck; then did the same until the hours of 
I eleven and twelve were tolled from the bell of 
' the public hall. She then threw her work over 
her head, walked to the front gate, and gazed 
anxiously up and down the silent street, but not 


290 


We Four Villagers. 


a living, moving creature could she see in any 
direction. 

The moon was full, and it beamed brightly 
from an unclouded sky upon the sleeping town, 
with a light so steady, so brilliant, so beautiful, 
that distant objects were almost as distinctly 
visible as if gleaming in the glare of a morning 
sun. 

0, Isabel ! Isabel ! where are you ?” 

But no Isabel answered the anxious mother’s 
question. Minnie then left the back door un- 
fastened, and w^ent to bed. Fatigue at last 
conquered her apprehensive sorrow, and she 
sank into a heavy sleep from which she did not 
awaken until it was time to prepare Olimond’s 
early breakfast, and the dinner which he was to 
take with him to his workshop. 

The sorrowing mother dared not communicate 
to Olimond the fears which w^ere lacerating her 
own inward heart. The first thing she did, 
even before she was dressed, was to look into 
Isabel’s bed, hoping to find her in it. But no ; 
it was as she had left it the preceding day. 

All day and the following evening, Minnie 
watched for the return of Isabel ; but no Isabel 
made her appearance. 

That night, before retiring to rest, Minnie 


We FoUK YiLL AGEES. 


291 


examined Isabel’s trunk, closet and boxes. She 
found they were all empty, with the exception 
of a few worn out, useless articles. Minnie 
then felt assured that Isabel must be gone to 
some place at which she expected to remain 
longer than she had ever done at any other since 
she had left Mrs. Loons. 

What should she do ? Raise the alarm ? 
Tell Olimond about her mysterious absence, and 
have him hunt her up ? 

To do so, she would have to acknowledge that 
she left the house in Patrick’s company. The 
consequences might be most fearful. No, she 
must not, she concluded, say one word about it 
to Olimond. The only w^ay she could keep him 
ignorant of the affair, was to keep it all a secret, 
shut up quietly in her own mind. How hard 
it was to keep it there, smothered and stifled 
in her own agonized heart. 

Why, mother,” said Rose, what does ail 
you ? are you sick, my own dear moddy ?” 

Poor, little Rose did all she could to comfort 
her ^^dear, dear moddy,” and that mother, for 
her sake, and for the sake of her brothers, 
dared not lie there and weep any longer. She 
must up and toil for their welfare and benefit ; 
toil on with the burden of her sorrow, and in- 


292 


We Four Yillagers. 


dulge not in the luxury of spending her time in 
tears. All such indulgence must he left to the 
unshared possession of the rich and wealthy ; 
the poor have no right to spend or waste their 
precious time in weepings or wailings. They must 
be left to the great and affluent of the world, who 
can afford to be idle, and therefore are able to 
weep at their leisure. 

One evening, while they were all sitting 
around the table, after having eaten their sup- 
per, with the remains still on the table, Isabel 
and Patrick suddenly walked into the middle of 
the room, and with a low, derisive curtsy, Isa- 
bel said : — 

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce 
to you my husband, and his happy young wife, 
Mrs. Patrick Franinigen. Now, Master Oli- 
mond, what do you say to that ?” 

Why, I say, if he does not leave the house 
this minute, I will make him.” 

As he said these words, he seized the sharp 
bread knife, that was lying near the loaf of 
bread, and sprang towards Patrick, with a 
blazing face and set teeth. The happy young 
wife and her new husband were not slow in 
leaving behind them the unclosed doors and 
open gate of Minnie’s house. 


We Four Yillagers. 293 

Olimond was quivering with anger, as he 
said — 

To think she should throw herself away on 
that young scamp !” 

Well,” said his mother, ^^if they are mar- 
ried, there is no help for it, and we must make 
the best we can of it and of him.” 

No, I will not make the best of it ; its im- 
possible to make even good of it, much less 
the best. Mother, did you know they w^ere 
going to be married ?” 

^^No, no, Olimond, I never heard a word 
about it. May be, after all, they are not mar- 
ried. Perhaps she only said they were, to 
tease you.” 

“ I wish that was all. But, mother, even if 
they are not married, she is keeping his com- 
pany, and that is disgraceful enough.” 

Olimond then sought his pillow. He Avas 
physically so much fatigued by his day’s toil, 
that he was not kept aAvake by his mental ex- 
citement. He soon slept the sound sleep of 
youth and weariness. The next morning, as he 
Avas eating his breakfast, he said : — 

Avish, mother, you would find out to-day 
whether or not Isabel is really married.” 
will try to.” 

25 


294 We Four Yillagers. 

Olimond went to his work^ faintly cheered 
by the hope that his sister was not married. 

As soon as the little boys were sent to school, 
Minnie and Rose started out to make inquiries 
after Isabel. Minnie knew where to go, as 
Patrick’s parents had never moved from their 
old home in Wood street. 

When they entered their house, the first thing 
they saw was Isabel, working very industriously 
at a sewing machine. 

Isabel,” said Minnie, are you living here ?” 

Yes, mother ; where else should I live, but 
with my husband’s parents, since Olimond will 
not allow me to bring him to your house ?” 

Isabel, are you really married ?” 

The answer to this question, was the display 
of a highly ornamented marriage certificate. 

Minnie read it, returned it to the owner, then 
said : — 

Why did you not ask my consent ?” 

Because I knew you would not give it.” 

How long do you expect to live here ?” 

Until Patrick is of age, which he will be in 
about fourteen months. After that, he will re- 
ceive higher wages ; then we will go to house- 
keeping.” 

Hoes he pay your boarding ?” 


We Four Yillagers. 


295 


No, ma am ; he could not afford to do that 
and dress us both, the way he wants to.” He 
pays his own boarding, and I pay mine.” 

How do you manage to do that ?” 

This way. His mother owns this sewing 
machine ; she has taught me how to use it, and 
I can now easily earn enough by working on it 
to pay her my boarding. It is so much nicer 
than sewing by hand, that I like it very 
much.” 

Then you are contented and happy, are 
you ?” 

0, yes, mother, very happy ! Patrick is a 
very good husband. There is no reason in the 
world why Olimond should dislike him.” 

I hope your happiness will last. But, Isa- 
bel, for the present, Patrick must not come to 
see us ; he must wait until Olimond becomes 
better reconciled to him.” 

“ What is the use of caring for him ?” 

I tell you, Isabel, we must ! he is my main 
stay. If he should go to sea, we would have 
to go to the poor house. My needle would 
never earn enough to support us all.” 

If Patrick cannot come to see you, I don’t 
Avant to come either.” 

You may change your mind about that; and 


296 


We Four Villagers. 


if you do, I hope you will come when Oliinond 
is not at home.” 

The mother then took her departure towards 
her own home, to prepare the noontide meal for 
her little children. When Olimond came home 
to his supper and heard the result of her morn- 
ing’s inquiries, he looked very angry, hut did 
not say much. He reserved his words for an 
other occasion. 

The next day was Saturday, and Minnie was 
hurrying to finish the last article of her week’s 
work, that she might have it taken home before 
dark. She was very anxious to receive the 
money for it, as she wanted to buy several 
articles that she and her children greatly needed. 

When, at last, it was done, she left the house, 
in the care of the two little boys, and, with the 
work on her arm, and Eose at her side, walked 
towards the dwelling-place of her customer. As 
they went along, Rose said, very coaxingly — 
Mamma, will you not buy me a new comb 
when you get paid for your sewing ?” 

I will. Rose, if I have money enough left 
after I buy new shoes for your brothers.” 

The child sighed, as she remembered all the 
many promises that had failed to bring for 
her the long-wished for long-comb, to keep her 


We Fouk Yillagees. 


297 


hair from falling over her eyes. Then she 
said — 

do wish Frank and Merton would not 
wear out so many shoes. Mamma, you buy new 
shoes for those boys every week, don’t you ?” 

0, no Rose ! not quite that often.” 

Well, if I ever do get that comb, I will be 
so glad, I will be afraid to look at it, for fear of 
breaking it.” 

You will get it one of these days.” 

When they reached the house of the owner 
of the week’s work, they found she had gone 
out. She was not expected home until the fol- 
lowing Monday morning. Before she went, 
she knew very well Minnie would bring the 
work home, but she did not leave the money 
for it, because she would not pay for it until 
she examined it very carefully, with her own 
hands and eyes. Minnie and Bose were both 
sadly disappointed. 


25-^ 


CHAPTEE XXX. 

OLD bob’s success. 


Minnie felt her disappointment all the more 
keenly, when she examined the state of her 
larder. There was not bread enough in the 
house for supper. There was but one very 
small drawing of tea, and only half as much 
sugar as they used at one meal ; only oil enough 
in the lamp for one night, and not a mite of 
flour, or butter, or meat, or one cent of money 
in the house. After Minnie had made these 
examinations, and placed the table and fire in 
readiness for supper, she sat at the front door 
and watched for the return of Olimond. She 
had some mending to be done, before she could 
say her week’s work was completed. But she 
was weary and did not feel like sewing, and she 
concluded to rest until after supper. So she 
sat and rested, and waited for Olimond. Bose 
had forgotten her disappointment in a merry 
game of tag, with her two little brothers; they 
played, and Minnie rested, until the grey twi- 


299 


We Four Villagers. 

light had settled away in the gloom and dark- 
ness of night, until the stars shone thickly and 
brightly over head — until the clock struck nine. 
Then the children became weary of their play, 
and wanted their supper. Too hungry and 
i sleepy to wait for anything better, they ate 
I their dry bread, drank their half sweetened tea, 

I and then, very soon, were silently living in the 
: land of dreams. 

Minnie cleared away their cups and saucers, 

; re-set the table with empty plates and empty 
sugar bowd for herself and Olimond, and then 
^ w^ent to her mending. By half-past ten o’clock 
it ^vas all done; but still no Olimond was 
! within sight or hearing. At eleven o’clock 
j the stores would close, and then they would be 
without food until Monday. Minnie was already 
suffering dreadfully for the want of it. What 
could she do ? There Avas not a neighbor near 
her of wdiom she dared ask a favor. 

Had her needle work employer then seen her 
haggard misery, and her agony of mind and 
body, would she not have wished she had left 
her the money she owed her ? 

Minnie then grew desperate. She hastily 
flung a sun-bonnet on her head, and a basket on 
her arm, and went to the nearest provision 


800 


We Four Villagers. 


shop, where she asked for credit until Monday. 
The man, after some hesitation, granted her re- 
quest, and she procured sufficient food to last 
until Monday. 

The next morning, when Rose was dressed in 
her clean, Sunday clothes, and her hair was 
smoothly brushed behind her ears, she sighed, 
and said — 

^^Now, I wish I had my new long-comb, to keep 
my hair out of my eyes and behind my ears.” 

I wish we had our new shoes, to wear to 
school to-morrow,” said Frank, ^^but I must 
say, as badly as I want them, I would be 
willing to go without them a week longer, for 
the sake of getting Rose her long-a-coming long- 
comb.” 

I declare, I would, too !” said Merton ; she 
will never drop that never-ending long-comb 
from her mouth, until some body puts it on the 
top of her head.” 

^^We will never hear the last of it, I am 
afraid,” said Frank. 

At twelve o’clock the front gate was opened, 
then shut with a loud bang. Minnie and her 
children all ran to the front door. 0, the terri- 
fying sight which met their gaze and struck 
them dumb with fear and amazement. The 


We Four Villagers. 


301 


figure which came staggering and tottering up 
the garden walk was Olimond’s, but not his own 
sturdy and upright form; it was Olimond’s, 
blighted^ bended and disguised under the bane- 
ful influences of liquor. 

He passed his terror-struck family without 
seeming to see them, and went to his bed, 
where he remained the rest of the day. 

At supper time he came down stairs, sat in 
the nearest chair, buried his face in his hands, 
and wept as if his heart would break. His 
mother said — 

Olimond, where have you been ?” 

Where have I been ? Go ask Isabel where 
I have been. She ought to know; she has 
driven me to destruction. Mother, my whole 
! week’s wages have been stolen from me.” 

I On the previous Saturday evening, when Oli- 
mond made his appearance on the pavement in 
front of his workshop, he discovered Bob Blazen- 
I bill standing there. 

! Olimond, my man,” he said, wouldn’t you 
like to go to a free concert to-night ?” 

Olimond’s heart was heavy, and the idea of 
going to a concert, without having to pay for it, 
sounded as if it would cheer his mind. His 
answer to old Bob was — 


802 


We Foue Yillagers. 


Yes, I would." 

They walked down the street together to a 
large drinking saloon. It was brilliantly lighted 
with gas, and adorned by many showy pictures, 
and large mirrors, in broad gilt frames. 


CHAPTEE XXXI. 

THE FREE CONCERT — THE LONG-COMB. 

When Olimond entered this brilliant apart- 
ment, he felt as if he was in a place of enchant- 
ment. He had never seen such a magnificent 
scene. As soon as they were fairly seated at 
one of the small, marble tables, Bob treated 
Olimond to a large plate of fried oysters, and a 
foaming glass of porter. At about nine o’clock, 
the music, and the most deeply interested 
hearers, adjourned to an upper room, in the rear 
of the establishment. Soon afterwards, a new 
feature was given to the fascinating scene ; for 
such it seemed to the deluded eyes of Olimond. 

The door of this upper saloon suddenly 
opened, and six or eight handsomely dressed 
young girls entered and walked around the room. 


We Four Yillag-ers. 


303 


As they walked, they boldly and smilingly asked 
each of the visitors — 

Will you dance with me, sir ?” 

Olimond was one of the number who found 
the question irresistible. Now, Olimond knew 
no more of the poetry of motion,” than he 
knew of the poetry of the ancient Greek and 
Hebrew. But he was excited by the music and 
by Bob’s good cheer; and under their united 
influences, he could jump up and down, stamp 
his feet, make a noise on the floor, hop about 
after his partner wherever she led him, and 
doing all these, he fancied, was dancing with a 
right good will and grace. 

In this way the greater part of the night was 
spent, until, finally, Olimond lost his conscious- 
ness, and did not recover it entirely, until sup- 
I per time on Sunday evening ; when he did then 
recover it, he found his pockets empty, and his 
head full of aches, his heart full of sorrow, and 
his eyes of bitter, bitter tears. 

On the next Saturday morning, Minnie was 
surprised by a call from Isabel. She was al- 
ready homesick, and wished to take a peep at 
Bose and her mother. She brought several 
little presents for her mother and brothers. 
Had she brought a loaf of bread, some tea and 


304 


We Four Yillagers. 


sugar, how acceptable they would have been ! 
But not more so than was the welcome gift 
which she bestowed on little Bose. It was 
neither more no): less than a long, black, gutta 
percha comb. At last. Rose really had her 
new long-comb on her head, and most beautifully 
it fitted there. Many and loud were the joyful 
exclamations over that delightful comb. 

Isabel’s visit was short. The last words she 
said, on her departure, were — 

Good-bye, Bose, take good care of your 
pretty, new comb.” 

“ That I will,” she said, as she smiled very 
brightly, and looked as happy as if her head 
was decorated with a jeweled diadem, instead 
of a simple, new comb. 

That night, when Olimond entered the house, 
Bose, in her joyous delight, forgot his ill feelings 
towards Isabel, and ran to him, with the excla- 
mation — 

See here, Olimond, what a dear, nice, new 
comb Izzy has given me !” 

He suddenly tore the comb from her head, 
twisted it tightly around his strong, hard fin- 
gers, until it broke into a dozen pieces ; he flung 
them to the middle of the street, then said : — 
Bose, remember, if you ever mention that 


We Fouk Yillagees. 805 

name to me again, I will put you where your 
; comb is.” 

Poor Pose ! she stole away to one of the 
i upper rooms and sobbed herself to sleep. 

Olimond’s violence frightened their appetite 
! from all the family, and the meal was a sorry 
I affair in every respect. 

! During several succeeding weeks, Olimond 
I did his regular daily work, but he did not earn 
any extra wages by doing over work at night. 
Minnie toiled all the harder at her needle on 
that account. 

Why was this new misfortune, in the shape 
' of Olimond’s failing industry, now hanging its 
darkening weight over the sorrowing hearts of 
j his dependent family ? 

It was because the demon intemperance was 
allowed to range freely up and down, and 
through every corner of our social life. 

No one ever fell into the habit of drinking to ex- 
cess, without the example and enticement of some 
other stronger and higher influence than his own 
wishes. And as the victims never enter alone 
on the fatal path of the drunkard’s career, so, 
alas ! they never walk alone therein. Their suf- 
ferings, disgrace, poverty, shame, sorrow, and all, 
save their guilt, must be shared by their relations. 

26 


806 


We Four Yillagers. 


About this time, Bob Blazenbill re-appeared 
in the workshop of his relations. In the even- 
ing he asked Olimond to take a drink; his drink 
was accepted. The vile tempter then thought 
he was sure of his victim. On the next Satur- 
day evening, after Olimond had received his 
week’s wages, Bob met him on the street, and 
said to him — 

Come along, down street, to the free con- 
cert?” 

Olimond clinched his fist, and shook it fiercely 
so near the most prominent feature in Bob’s face, 
that the man was frightened and did not dare 
repeat the question. But, by this time, Olimond 
was beginning to love the taste of fire-water,” 
and although he would not trust himself to go 
with Bob to the free concert, he could not resist 
the desire he felt to refresh himself with a glass 
of punch. As he walked towards home he felt 
chilly, for it was now the latter part of October ; 
he stopped at a tavern, and drank a large glass 
of hot whiskey punch. In this way Olimond 
began spending a large proportion of his wages. 
Very soon he formed the habit of giving his 
mother only a part of his earnings. 

When Olimond was done his supper, one 
evening, he went to his own room, and to bed 


We Fouk Yillagees. 


307 


his mother thought; but, instead of retiring 
to rest, he was intending to go out and labor for 
the Wages of sin, which is death/’ When he 
: reached his room, instead of undressing, he at- 
tired himself in the clean garments his mother 
had put there for his Sunday use, and made 
such improvements as he could afford, in his 
personal appearance, and then walked quietly 
i down stairs and out of the back door. It was 
nearly ten o’clock when he reached the free con- 
cert. He and his companions revelled and 
danced until three o’clock in the morning. Oli- 
mond was careful not to drink excessively, as 
' he did not want to become insensible ; but at 
that hour he did, most decidedly, lose all con- 
! sciousness, and remained in that state until near 
I noon the next day, at which time he found him- 
j self walking the street near his own gate. He 
; must have been drugged to be robbed of his 
i week’s wages. After that he became a frequent 
I visitor to free concerts in other places, and 
I he began to earn less and less wages every 
i week. 

' One Saturday night he did not come home at 
I all ; and Minnie was obliged to supply the wants 
j of the family the best way she could with her 
I own earnings. Sunday went, and then came 


308 


We FoUK YiLL AGEES. 


Monday, and every other day of the week ; but 
Olimond did not return to his home. His 
mother was in great distress about his un- 
wonted absence. 


CHAPTEE XXXII. 

DISMISSED — MRS. JAY’S BENEVOLENCE. 

While Minnie was suffering in grief over the 
mysterious absence of her son Olimond, he was 
in comparative ease and comfort, serving out 
his term of thirty days below,” in the county 
prison. 

He had been to a free concert, as usual, on 
the previous Saturday night. He and one of 
the other revellers there, had engaged in a 
quarrel ; the noise they made, caused the arrest 
of the whole company, and they were all sent 
to prison. As they made some pretensions 
to be decent people, they did not give their 
own names, but were committed under false 
ones. 

When Olimond was liberated, and returned 
to his place in the workshop, he was told that 


We Four Yillagers. 


809 


, another hand filled it, and he was dismissed from 
the establishment. 

! All this time the family depended on the 
! earnings of Minnie’s needle^ which scarcely suf- 
ficed to keep them in food and fuel ; she could 
I not buy one single article of clothing. She 
i 'was in daily dread of having her sons dismissed 
I from school, on account of the state of their ap- 
parel. One day she went to see Biddy, and 
described to her the hard time she was having. 

When she was done, Biddy said — 

Never you mind, my poor friend, I will see 
if I can’t do something for ye before ye’re a 
: week older.” 

Biddy had a cousin, now living with a certain 
i lady, named Mrs. Ja}^, who w^as wealthy and 
very actively benevolent. To this lady Biddy 
I went and presented Minnie’s case. Before the 
I day closed Minnie received a ton of coal and a 
barrel of flour. 

I What mines of 'wealth, and joy, and comfort 
I they seemed to the grateful heart of Minnie 
i Malvers. Their treasures appeared to be inex- 
haustible ; and yet, they were purchased with 
no greater amount of money than is often spent 
for the trimming of a dress, or for some useless 
gewgaw of adornment for the person or the 
26 * 


310 


We Four Yillagers. 


parlor. The donations were certainly liberal, 
useful, and 0, how acceptable ! But still, they 
did not satisfy their generous giver. That 
evening Mrs. Jay drove to Minnie’s door, in her 
carriage, and inquired kindly into the nature 
and extent of her most pressing necessities. 
She came in the evening, on purpose to find all 
the family at home. Mrs. Jay procured from 
Minnie the measure of all her sons, and herself 
and Rose, for full suits of clothes. Before she 
left, she said : — 

Would you not be more comfortable if 3^11 
had a new stove ? 3 'ours appears to be very 
much worn out.” 

0, yes, ma’am !” said Minnie ; it is ready to 
fall to pieces, but I cannot afford to buy a new 
one.” 

The next morning a porter brought Minnie 
a new stove, and a large basket filled with gro- 
ceries and provisions, with Mrs. Jay’s compli- 
ments. 

Minnie began to fancy that Mrs. Jay must 
be more than human; that she was an angel 
sent from the higher regions to earth, for a brief 
period, that we might see what lovely beings 
the angels are. That evening, Mrs. Jay re- 
peated her call on Minnie, and brought with her 


■\Ye Four Villagers. 311 

a large bundle of comfortable; new clothing for 
herself and children. 

Minnie, by Mrs. Jay’s advice, put her boys 
in stores where they each earned a trifle. 

Winter, with its long, windy storms of snow, 
sleet and piercing cold, at length gave place to 
sunny, cheerful, smiling Spring ; arid then, one 
day, when all nature seemed awakening to a 
joyful brightness, Mr. Loydem called on Min- 
nie and told her she must move by the end of 
the week, as he had engaged workmen to tear 
doAvn the old yellow frame. At the end of the 
week, the old yellow frame was empty and de- 
serted. 

Olimond, now seeing they again had rent to 
pay, exerted himself a little more to keep regu- 
larly at work, in order to help pay it ; but, by 
this time, the worm of the still” within him 
was stronger than his wishes, and he did not 
succeed in earning half enough to quench its in- 
satiable demands. 

It was August; the weather was stifling warm 
anywhere ; but much more so in the third story 
of the small house in which Minnie was staying. 
Minnie was miserable in health, and out of 
work; her customers were out of town. Oli- 
mond ate at her table, but assisted not in fur- 


312 


We Four Yillagers. 


iiishing it. Merton was sick in bed with bilious 
fever. Frank was earning one dollar and fifty 
cents per week, and his wages was all they 
had to support the family. 

When the month expired, and her rent be- 
came due, all the money she had in the world, 
was one dollar. She gave that to the landlord, 
and told him that, on account of her own and 
her son’s sickness, she had not been able to get 
more. When he took it, he said to her, very 
firmly — 

“Remember, if you do not pay me the next 
month’s rent in full, I will put you out. If you 
are too poor to pay rent, why don’t you go to 
the poor house ?” 

Time passed away, and things went on the 
same. Merton remained sick, Olimond idle, and 
Minnie’s customers were still absent. The next 
month was drawing to its close, and Minnie was 
unprepared to pay the rent. In her trouble, 
she went to Biddy, and asked her advice about 
applying to Mrs. Jay for relief. 

“ Indade,” said Biddy, “ its sorry I am for ye. 
But Mrs. Jay has shut up her house and gone 
to Europe.” 

It was four o’clock in the afternoon. Biddy 
was sewing in her front room, and listening to 


We Four Yillagers. 


313 


Minnie’s lamentations over Mrs. Jay’s absence, 
when they were disturbed by a knock at the 
front door. When Biddy opened it, she saw 
that good Mrs. Bridd had once more turned up, 
alive and well, in Philadelphia. 

As soon as she was comfortably seated, she 
said : — 

And why did you never answer any of my 
letters?” 

^^We never received any letters from you!” 
they both exclaimed at once. 

I wrote to you both, two or three times, and 
directed them to this house ; it is very strange 
you did not receive them.” 

Mrs. Bridd then informed her friends she w^as 
on the look out for a house, and wanted Minnie 
to take rooms with her. In the course of a few 
days, Mrs. Bridd found a house to suit her, and 
she and Minnie moved into it. Very soon, they 
were all nicely fixed. After the removal, Mer- 
ton recovered his health very rapidly, and was, 
by the middle of October, able to return to his 
situation in the store. Minnie’s customers also 
came home, and they were once more getting 
along comfortably. 


CHAPTEE XXXIIT. 


NEW RELATIONS — OLIMOND’S DEPARTURE. 

Mrs. Bridd had not brought her furniture 
with her from the country, but had sold it 
there, and intended to buy new things, a few at 
a time. 

One day she had been out on the business of 
buying furniture. When she came home she 
looked as if she was running over with good 
news, and did not know how to tell them fast 
enough. 

Mrs. Malvers,’’ she said, did you not tell 
me that your real mother’s name is Tendem, 
and that she lives in B county ?” 

^^Yes,” said Minnie; ^Hhat is her name, and 
that is the name of her county.” 

Mrs. Bridd then clapped her hands, and said — 

I thought so ! I thought so !” 

^^What of it?” 

Why, Mrs. Malvers, my child, I have found 
your mother.” 

My mother ?” 


We Four Yillagers. 


815 


How strangely the words sounded to Minnie, 
when she knew that all the mother she ever re- 
membered, was resting many long, weary years 
in the grave ! 

After a little while, a furniture car drove to 
the door, and in it sat a person with a looking- 
glass in his hands. Of him Mrs. Bridd had 
bought the furniture ; and she told Minnie his 
name was Mr. Tendem. When he entered the 
house, Mrs. Bridd introduced to him his sister, 
Mrs. Minnie Mai vers. 

He eyed Minnie very sharply, then said : — 
My mother told me, once, that I had a half 
sister living somewhere in the country, but her 
name, she said, was Emgreen ; she never said 
she had a daughter in Philadelphia.’’ 

But,” said Mrs. Bridd, this is Minnie Em- 
green that was ; she used to live in Silveryville ; 
but she married a Mr. Malvers, then moved to 
this city.” 

^^Well,” said Mr. Tendem, don’t know 
much about it. I expect mother will pay me a 
visit next Christmas; when she comes, I will 
tell her about it.” 

After saying this, he suddenly took his de- 
parture from the house. Minnie laughed, and 
said to Mrs. Bridd — 


316 


We Foue Yillagees. 


You seO; poor relations are not welcome cus- 
tomers in any trade.” 

Mrs. Bridd was out of patience with the man, 
and resolved she would not buy any more furni- 
ture from him. 

Minnie and Mrs. Bridd were getting along 
very comfortably together. Minnie’s cough still 
troubled her a good deal, yet she kept up and 
sewed very steadily, and had plenty of work. 
Frank and Merton’s salaries were increased. 
Bose was a scholar in the public school, and 
was learning very fast ; and still she found time 
on Saturdays, and in the weekday evenings, to 
help her mother with her work ; she bid fair to 
become a very skilful sewer. If Olimond had 
done his duty, they all would have been very 
happy. But he did not; on the contrary, he 
was a source of much sorrow to all his family, 
as well as to their kind friend, Mrs. Bridd. His 
conduct was sometimes so violent, that they 
trembled with fear whenever he came in the 
house. 

Thus they passed the time, until a few days 
before Christmas ; they were then surprised by a 
visit from Mr. Tendem, the furniture dealer. 
He was accompanied by a neatly dressed, and 
ruddy, middle-aged lady, whom he introduced as 


We Four Yillagers. 317 

his mother. This lady immediately asked Min- 
, nie a long string of questions. After listening 
very attentively to her answers^ she turned 
towards her son, and said : — 

I ^^Yes, Thomas, this is my daughter, sure 
I enough. She is my long lost Minnie. You 
I need not wait for me, Thomas, I am going to 
i spend the day with Minnie. Please to call for 
me early this evening, my son.” 

Mr. Tendem then left for his own home. 

Mrs. Bridd was present, and she could not 
help thinking that Mrs. Tendem looked more 
like being the daughter than the mother of 
Mrs. Malvers. 

Mrs. Tendem made herself very agreeable to 
both Minnie and Mrs. Bridd. She informed 
I them that she was a widow ; her children were 
i all settled in life, and doing w^ell; that she 

I owned a small house and lot in B county, 

I and that her occupation was nursing the sick, 

I at which she made a comfortable living. She 
added to all this, an invitation to Minnie to go 
and live with her in B county. 

I could not do that,” said Minnie ; I could 
not think of leaving my children.” 

Of course, you could not,” said Mrs. Ten- 
dem ; but you can bring them with you.” 


818 


We Four Villagers. 


ma’am/’ said Minnie; ^Uhat would not be 
fair ; they would turn you out of doors ; I have 
four — three boys and one girl — living with me.” 

Well four are not so very many; I could 
make plenty of room for them.” 

^^No; no/’ said Minnie ; ^Uhey would be too 
much trouble ; I will stay here until they are 
grown up; if I live that long, and then I will 
come and pay you a long; long visit.” 

It was the middle of January. Mrs. Ten- 
dem had paid her annual visit to Philadelphia; 

and returned to her solitary home in B 

county. There had been three wrecks of se- 
verely cold weather. The Schuylkill; and the 
ponds which at that time abounded in the 
vicinity of the river; were tightly bound in the 
glittering fetters of ice. But there was now a 
sudden thaW; and a foggy; drizzling rain; such 
a thaw and rain as almost invariably visit 
Philadelphia every January. It was a Satur- 
day night — dark; damp and dismal. Olimond 
had attended a carousal in the neighborhood of 
Fairmount. As usual; on all similar occasions; 
he imbibed very freely his favorite beverages. 
When he went out in the evening; the ponds in 
the open lots which lay on his road were frozen; 
and he crossed them in safety ; but; at two or 


We Four Villagers. 


319 


three o’clock on the next morning, when he at- 
tempted to return home, on the same road, the 
ice was softened by the sudden thaw 5 it broke 
under him, his feet became entangled in the 
broken ice, and he fell, face downwards ; he was 
stunned by his fall, or stupefied by the liquor 
he had swallowed, until he was unable to re- 
lease himself from the ice. There he remained 
lying, face-deep in the icy water, until he was 
drowned — drowned, dead — dead beyond all re- 
covery ; drowned, although his body was not 
more than half covered with water. 

, There he lay, a stiffened, bloated, drowned 
corpse, until the beautiful beams of an unclouded 
Sabbath day’s noontide sun played warmly and 
brilliantly upon his cold, cold remains. Un- 
heeded and unnoticed, there he remained. 

He was, by this time, so frequently, during 
days and weeks, absent from his home, that 
I when he was thus away, his mother had ceased 
! to worry herself about him; it was, on account of 
his vile and riotous conduct, rather a relief than 
a worriment, to know that he was not in the 
; house. 

In the afternoon, the report flew from lip to 
lip that the Schuylkill ice was breaking. Many 
I of the neighbors, and the citizens generally. 


320 


We Four Villagers. 


wended their way, in large numbers, to see 
the havoc that the sun, and tide, and current 
were making with the crystal cakes of ice 
as they floated down the swollen river, or were 
piled in glittering heaps along its still ice-bound 
margins. Many of the eager sight-seers avoided 
crossing the vacant lots, on account of the soft 
state of the thick mud which now covered them, 
and they walked around them on the surround- 
ing pavements. In the vicinity of Minnie's 
house there lived a party of half grown boys, 
who generally spent their Sabbath hours loiter- 
ing idly about the street corners, concluding to 
see all the sport they could ; they, too, started 
off to view the breaking up of the ice. These 
boys, like all boys, had not the least antipathy 
in the world to mud ; on the contrary, they 
rather enjoyed the fun of wading through it. 
In their hurry to reach the river as soon as 
they could, they resolved to walk through the 
open lots. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Minnie’s last domestic woe. 

When they were about half way across the 
lot, they discovered Olimond lying in the pond. 
Thinking he had just fallen, they ran to his 
rescue, and dragged him out of the water. They 
were dreadfully shocked at seeing the way in 
* which his face was distorted. Not being much 
experienced in such matters, they thought he 
had a fit, and resolved to report his situation to 
the first police officer they could see. 

They then left him, and continued going to- 
wards the Schuylkill. They had not proceeded 
far, when they overtook two knights of the 
star,” and to them they described the state in 
which they had found Olimond. They also 
told them his name and place of residence. The 
officers wrote down Olimond’s name and resi- 
dence ; also those of the informers, then went to 
see what they could do for the relief of the in- 
ebriate. It did not take them long to decide 
that he was, and for at least ten hours had 
been, entirely dead. 

27 * 


322 


We Four Villagers. 


Bob Blazenbill did not long survive his un- 
fortunate victim. As he was one day going 
to the workshop of Mr. Loydem, he was seized 
with convulsions, and fell on the street. He 
was picked up by some benevolent strangers, 
and carried into the nearest drug store, where 
he was kindly attended to by the proprietor. 
The druggist was also an M. D., and he pre- 
scribed for him very skilfully ; but his efforts 
to battle with the powerful disease that was 
holding its triumphant sway, undaunted, over its 
doomed victim, were all abortive. The fatal 
malady came off conqueror, and Bob Blazenbill, 
after two hours spent in hard struggles with 
the giant king of terrors, was forced, at last, to 
lay down his weapons, and ceased to breathe. 
His foul, polluted, whiskey-steeped carcass, more 
hideous than that of any dog or horse that ever 
died, was there stretched out, on the middle of 
the floor, a fit monument and trophy of the 
wonderful and amazing power of old King Al- 
cohol. 

Minnie recovered very slowly from the attack 
of sickness into which she was thrown by the 
shock of Olimond’s sudden death. 

Very early in the following June, one Satur- 
day afternoon, Mrs. Bridd, Minnie and Rose 


"We Four Villagers. 


323 


were sitting in their room with their sewing, 
talking together very agreeably. Suddenly, 
Mrs. Bridd looked up, and said : — 

How smoky the air is !” 

Bose laughed at her, and said : — 

I don’t see any smoke, Mrs. Bridd.” 

Minnie, also, said she did not see any smoke. 
But to Mrs. Bridd’s vision the smoke soon be- 
came so thick, that she could not distinguish 
her work from her hands. She rubbed her 
eyes, then looked around her in bewilderment ; 
she put away her work as well as she could, 
Avith a thick, impenetrable veil of mist before 
her eyes. After a feAv minutes’ hesitation, she 
hurst into tears, and said : — 

I am losing my sight ; I am going blind.” 

When Minnie found hoAv her eyes were af- 
fected, she immediately sent Bose after the 
doctor. He soon called ; after making an ex- 
amination of the m stifled eyes, he prescribed 
such treatment as he judged they required, 
then he said . — 

above all things, recommend an imme- 
diate change of air. You had better make ar- 
rangements to pass the whole Summer in the 
country ; while there, live as much as you can 
in the open air. Have made a dark-green silk 


324 


We Four Yillagers. 


shade, and wear it over your eyes constantly ; 
do not on any account attempt to read, sew or 
write. Perhaps we may he able to arrest the 
disease that has attacked them ; but to do so, a 
removal to the country is indispensable.” 

At that minute, Minnie was seized with one 
of the coughing spells to which she was subject. 
When it was over, the doctor said to her — 

You did not ask me to prescribe for you, 
Mrs. Malvers ; but if you would, I would tell 
you that you need a change of air as much as 
Mrs. Bridd does.” 


CHAPTEE XXXY. 

A HURRIED CHANGE. 

The next day Minnie wrote to Mrs. Tendem 
about the doctor’s advice, and requested to be 
informed whether it would be convenient to re- 
ceive a long visit from Mrs. Bridd, Bose and 
herself. By return of mail, Mrs. Tendem’s an- 
swer was received, in which she said — 

The sooner you all come, the better I will 
be pleased.” 


•We Four Villagers. 


325 


After a few days spent in hurried preparation, 
they departed from Philadelphia. They left 
Frank and Merton hoarding with their sister 
Isabel. 

At about sunset, they arrived at Mrs. Ten- 
dem’s house. She was at the door ready to 
receive them, and conducted them at once into 
a room in which there was a well spread tea- 
table, with four chairs standing around it. 

^^Now,” said Mrs. Tendem, ^Hake off your 
bonnets, and sit down at once to your supper ; 
you must be almost famished.” 

The supper was nicely prepared, and keenly 
relished by the weary travelers. As soon as 
it was concluded, Mrs. Tendem’s countenance 
assumed a very sad expression 5 then she said : — 
I am very sorry, but I must now leave you 
to yourselves until some time to-morrow. I am 
going to the house of our nearest neighbor. 
Squire Welborn; his wife is sick, and I am 
nursing her. I did not write about her sickness 
in my letter, for fear if I did, it might prevent 
your coming.” 


CHAPTEE XXXYI. 


SQUIRE WELBORN. 

Squire Welborn had several grown up chil- 
dren ; they were all well settled and prospered 
in the world, hut living at considerable distances 
from his old homestead, so that they could not 
visit him very frequently. The present Mrs. 
Welborn was not their mother, for she was 
childless; but they loved and respected her very 
highly, and were very anxious she should re- 
cover her health. 

Mr. Welborn w^as a kind husband, and spared 
neither trouble nor expense in his care of his 
wife. He did not apprehend any danger of 
losing her, but confidently hoped she would be 
restored to the enjoyment of renewed health. 

While Mrs. Tendem was receiving the stran- 
gers, Mr. Welborn sat in his wfife’s room, and 
read to her from the best of books.” When 
he closed the volume, she said to him — 

Eichard, I want you to always be good and 
kind to dear Mrs. Tendem. She is so attentive 


We Four Yillagers. 827 

to me, I feel money alone will never pay her 
for her faithfulness in nursing me. Will you 
promise to do as I desire ?” 

^^Why, to be sure, wifey, I will promise that 
with all my heart ; I could not help being kind 
to my nearest neighbor.’' 

“ I know all that ; but I want you to be par- 
ticularly kind and good to her for my sake.” 

I promise you I will ; and that as long as I 
live, she will have a kind and true friend.” 

Mrs. Welborn then composed herself to rest, 
as if his w^ords had given her unspeakable com- 
fort. 

Since Mrs. Bridd’s dimness of sight, Minnie 
had been in the habit of reading to her daily, in 
the Bible. Mrs. Bridd requested her to do so, 
because she felt that she could not do without 
daily hearing the words of life eternal that are 
therein written. 

The more Minnie read, the more she became 
interested ; and now the contents of that blessed 
volume were tearing from her eyes the scales of 
error and unbelief. 

The next morning, at about ten o’clock, Mrs. 
Tendem came in, with her handkerchief before 
her eyes, and threw herself upon one of her 
sofas, where she wept most piteously. 


828 


We Four Villagers. 


What is the matter, mother ?” said Minnie. 

0, it is all over with dear Mrs. Welborn ! 
she died about two hours ago. I was up with 
her all night, and now I must rest a couple of 
hours. Call me at twelve o’clock, but please do 
not speak one word to me until then.” 

Minnie covered her with a thin shawl, closed 
the shutters and doors, and left her. 

The funeral took place about three days after- 
wards. Rose attended it with her grand-mother. 
Mrs. Bridd would not on account of her green 
shade, and Minnie would not leave her. It was 
largely attended, both at the house and church, 
five miles distant. The squire’s married chil- 
dren, and many other relations and friends, re- 
turned with him to his house, where they re- 
mained to supper, and many of them until the 
next day. 


CHAPTER XXXYIT. 


CONCLUSION. 

Three or four days after the funeral, Mrs. 
Tendem returned to her own home. 

In about two weeks, the newly made widower 
began visiting Mrs. Tendem’s house; he went 
there regularly every afternoon, and invariably 
presented Hose with a bunch of handsome 
flowers. He seemed much pleased with Rose’s 
quiet, modest manners. 

Squire Welborn was a strong advocate of 
temperance ; and he made it his favorite boast, 
that not a drop of intoxicating beverages was 
ever sold within a mile of his house, in any 
direction. On that subject he found congenial 
companionship, Avhile conversing with Minnie 
and Mrs. Bridd. 

One Saturday afternoon Mr. Welborn asked 
the ladies to accompany him to church the next 
day, in his large carriage. Mrs. Bridd thanked 
him, but declined going, on account of the trouble 
it gave her friends to get her in and out of a 
28 


330 


We Four Yillagers. 


carriage. Minnie would not go without Mrs. 
Bridd. Mrs. Tendem and Bose accepted the 
invitation very gratefully. On every Sunday 
after that they accompanied Mr. Welborn to 
church. Sometimes they would take their din- 
ner with them, and remain until the conclusion 
of the afternoon services. 

Thus affairs continued until, one afternoon, 
about eight weeks after the death of Mrs. Wel- 
born. 

The inmates of Mrs. Tendem’s pleasant dwell- 
ing were sitting sewing in her airy hall, when 
Minnie said, laughingly — 

I wonder who the attraction is that draws 
the old squire here so regularly every after- 
noon ? We four must be a fascinating circle, in 
his estimation, or he WQuld not come as often as 
he does ; but I am beginning to suspect that we 
cannot all be equally attractive.” 

^^The attraction cannot be in me, with my 
shaded eyes,” said Mrs. Bridd. 

^^Nor in me,” said Minnie, with my distress- 
ing cough.” 

0, he is so deaf, that your cough cannot 
distress him much.” 

^‘1 think I am the magnet,” said Bose, ^^for 
you know how fond he is of flowers.” 


We Four Villagers. 


331 


At that moment the front gate opened, and 
Eose received her usual afternoon’s floral offer- 
ing, from her attentive old friend, the squire. 
After chatting pleasantly and equally with all 
four, about two hours, he left them. 

The next day was Saturday; a busy day 
anywhere, among all good housekeepers, but 
particularly so with those in Pennsylvania. It 
was baking day. Mrs. Tendem was actively 
engaged in her neat, w^ell kept kitchen; she'was 
assisted by Eose in making bread, pies, custards 
and cakes — Eose thought — enough to last a 
month. After they were all done, and placed 
in the large, hot oven, built of masonry in the 
old fashion, Mrs. Tendem began to mix up a 
large fruit poundcake. This was something 
extra, and it excited Eose’s curiosity. 

Grand-mother, do' you expect company ?” 

Your brothers are expected, you know.” 

^^Yes, they may come to-day, but I do not 
think they will until next week.” 

Still, they might come, and it is best to be 
well prepared.” 

After the poundcake was baked and cooled, 
Mrs. Tendem prepared some fine icing, with 
which she thickly coated it. She then decked 
and ornamented it with sundry delicate devices. 


332 We Fouk Yillageks. 

until it looked as if it had been manufactured 
by a skilful, city confectioner. 

As she was about concluding the tedious 
operation, Minnie happened to pass through the 
kitchen, and seeing the handsomely prepared 
cake, she said : — 

Mother, what a beautiful cake you have 
made ! Do you expect company T' 

Yes, I expect the honor of a visit from your 
two city sons.” 

But you need not have gone to all that 
trouble for them. They would be glad to eat 
your cake without the icing.” 

choose to ice my cakes sometimes; they 
keep better.” 

After that, there was no more allusion made 
to the ornamented cake. About sunset dhe 
stage-coach passed, but the boys did not arrive. 
Supper was eaten without the cake. There 
were so many other good things on the table, 
that it was not needed. 

The next day was Sunday. Mrs. T., Bose, 
and the squire, as usual, went to church, with 
their dinner in the carriage-box. 

When it was time to expect them home, Min- 
nie prepared an inviting little supper for them, 
in her mothers neat kitchen; then she and Mrs. 


We Four Villagers. 


833 


Bridd walked up and down the garden walks, 
watching for their return. They could see the 
road a long way off. They waited and watched 
for them full an hour, before they appeared, and 
^yere beginning to be alarmed about them. 

There they come, at last,” said Minnie; ^^let 
us go to the front gate to meet them.” 

They went to the gate, but did not meet them, 
for the carriage, instead of stopping, as usual, 
to put out the ladies, passed the widow’s home 
and went to the squire’s. 

What is the meaning of that ?” said Minnie, 
with her eyes full of amazement. 

She was not kept long in suspense. Almost 
immediately, Bose tripped gaily into the back 
entrance of the house, and then quickly passed 
them, with the large poundcake in her hands, 
lightly covered with a snowy napkin. As she 
passed her mother she said : — 

^^My grand-mother, Mrs. Welborn, requests 
the pleasure of your own and Mrs. Bridd’s com- 
pany, up at the squire’s, to help her eat her 
wedding supper.” 

Stop ! stop, Bose. Is your grand-mother 
really married to Squire Welborn?” 

Yes, ma’am ; they were married this after- 
noon after church was out, and all the congrega- 
28 * 


334 


We Foue Yillageks. 


tion had gone home. I acted as bridesmaid, 
and the clergyman s little son was groomsman. 
It was a childish affair, altogether, the clergy- 
man’s wife said; hut we did not care what she 
said, we enjoyed it. Now, mother, do hurry and 
bring Mrs. Bridd up as fast as you can.” 

Did you ever see the like of that ?” said 
Minnie, turning towards Mrs. Bridd. 

don’t see anything, my dear; I wish I 
could see lioiv a wedding can so soon replace a 
funeral.” 

Well, well, I suppose the old gentleman was 
worried out of all manner of patience by Peggy’s 
mismanagement.” 

Of course, we must suppose something to 
excuse his inexcusable haste.” 

On the following Saturday Frank and Merton 
arrived ; they found a large share of their grand- 
mother’s wedding cake awaiting their arrival, to 
welcome them to her new home. They spent 
a delightful week and a half in the country ; 
tried their hands, by way of experiment, at 
farm work, but very soon relinquished it, as 
being much harder than their dull and monoto- 
nous store duties. They returned to the city, 
much refreshed by their excursion, and full of 
the praises of their new old grand-father, and 


We Fouk Yillagers. 335 

tlieir new young grand-mother,” and of their 
splendid home on the bright Hillside Farm. 

In October Mrs. Bridd’s adopted son received 
a well maintained appointment in the city of 
Philadelphia. He immediately rented a neat 
dwelling, and furnished it very comfortably. 
He then paid Minnie a visit ; at the end of the 
week he returned to the city, accompanied by 
his mother. Soon afterwards, he was married 
to a worthy young lady, whom he had long 
loved, and she was ever afterwards a faithful 
friend and daughter of Mrs. Bridd. 

After that, Minnie and her daughter Bose 
lived in peace and comfort, in Mrs. Tendem’s 
house. Not to be entirely dependent upon the 
generous liberality of the squire and his new 
wife, they procured fine needle work from the 
families of the neighboring farmers, by which 
they made a comfortable living, without being 
overtasked or hurried. 

The neighbors talked and laughed a good deal 
about the squire’s hasty wedding, but he paid 
them no attention, but went on 

“ The even tenor of his way,” 
without halting to regard the speech of people.” 

During a part of the following Winter, there 
was a long, severely cold spell of weather. The 


336 


We Foue Yillagees. 


sleighing was excellent in almost every part of 
Pennsylvania, and tolerably good even in Phila- 
delphia. While it was at its best and hardest 
state, Mr. Welborn proposed the treat of a very 
long sleigh ride to his wife and her daughters. 
The proposal was hailed with delight by Pose, 
and thankfully accepted by Minnie. 

It was on a bright, clear, but piercingly cold 
Monday morning, at an early hour, when they 
started. The landscape looked like avast sheet 
of snow-white paper, on which fences, trees, 
houses, barns and bridges were drawn, in gray, 
brown and other colored lines. At about eleven 
o’clock they entered the hospitable mansion of 
one of Mr. Welborn’s sons, and there they dined. 
Although it was not more than four o’clock when 
they prepared to take their departure, they were 
not permitted to go in peace until they had again 
been seated at a w^ell furnished meal, which 
young Mrs. Welborn insisted upon calling their 
supper. At an hour after sunset, they arrived 
at the house of another Mr. Welborn, and there 
they were obliged to partake of another supper, 
for which they were in a much better state of 
preparation. There they remained all night. 
The next morning, after an early breakfast, they 
re-entered their sleigh, and rode very rapidly 


We Four Yillagers. 


837 


until twelve o’clock ; they then dined with Mr. 
Welborn’s married daughter, rested their horses 
two hours, and then drove them at the top of 
their speed until sunset. They then rode to 
the door of iny own house, in Silveryville. 
There Minnie and Rose alighted with their 
baskets and bags. Mr. and Mrs. Welborn con- 
tinued their journey, two miles down the road, 
to visit Mr. Welborn’s sister, where they re- 
mained a day and two nights. Minnie and 
Rose found me, with my knitting Avork beside 
me, in my own quiet home, listening in solitude, 
to the ticking melody of my dark, old clock in 
the corner. I was delighted to see my friends, 
and held Avith one a good, long, old times talk, 
and Avith the other a merry," lively, new times 
chat, until a late hour of the night ; but neither 
the talk nor the chat could induce me to forget 
to provide for my unexpected visitors a sub- 
stantial and nicely prepared supper. There 
they remained until the sleigh of Mr. Welborn 
called for them, and in it they proceeded to 
Philadelphia. Minnie Avas glad to see her 
friends and children, but she could not feel 
either happy or contented in Philadelphia. 
Every city sight and city sound seemed to con- 
vey to her mind the remembrance of some past 


338 


We Four Villagers. 


pang of agony and suffering; and she was 
heartily rejoiced when her face was turned to- 
wards her hillside home in the country. 

They returned by a nearer route, on which, 
they called at the houses of various friends 
and relatives, by whom they were kindly 
received, and sumptuously entertained. The 
excursionists were delighted with their cold and 
bracing trip. 

Minnie, while in the city, found she had 
manifold reasons for being pleased with and 
proud of her sons, Frank and Merton. They 
had joined the Sons of Temperance, and were 
therefore protected from the vice that had ruined 
their father. Patrick’s course was steadily on- 
ward, and his business was well prospered. Mrs. 
Bridd was happy in her children, and was per- 
mitted to dispense with the green shade, but 
still unable to read or sew. Biddy and her 
husband, Jabez, did not prosper very well; they 
were still as poor as when they first began 
the world. Mr. and Mrs. Janes were rolling in 
wealth, and had quite ceased to recognise any 
of their poor or country relations. 

It was Minnie’s recent visit to me that had 
stirred up in my mind the remembrance of the 
events which are recorded on these pages. The 


We Four Yillagers. 339 

ones which I did not before know, were then 
committed to my confidence by Minnie. 

Mrs. Guildhall is long since dead, and her 
beautiful villa over the bridge is owned and 
occupied by strangers. Mr. Guildhall is re- 
duced to great poverty, living a dreary, child- 
less old man, in a one roomed dwelling-place, 
on the outskirts of Philadelphia, where he is 
supported by the benevolence of his nearest re- 
lations. Should he survive them, he will pro- 
bably end his career where he materially helped 
to drive Merton Malvers — in the palace home 
of the homeless — known as the poorhouse. 


THE END. 


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